Two girls against the odds
by Wandering princess
Summary: completely AU what if Belle had escaped the curse halfway and met Emma before the events of the pilot?-in present day Boston roomantes and best friends Emma and Sophie are living a normal life, but what happens when Henry's visit prompts them to Storybrooke. two girls, one of them destined to break a curse, the other looking for something she lost, Gremma, Swan thief, Rumbelle
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks to ****Milarqui**** for his invaluable help with correcting my grammatic horrors, this chapter has been revised by him, (I think you deserve a medal for what you did) so here we go**

**Old Author note made before the revision: So hello I haven't written in gosh who knows how long, now, I'm going to post this, and it's yet to be corrected, which means my grammar sucks, but, this's an idea that's been twirling in my head for a while so, since I'm currently with two hours to kill until I get my math scores from the teacher, I guess why not...**

**so don't judge the writer by the grammar and BTW I don't own OUAT, if I did, most of the things that have happened in season two would have been cut from the script.**

**Roommates Emma and Sophie met when Emma was twenty two in a hospital in Chicago, Sophie was a "recently released amnesiac" and Emma was a "troublemaker with a track record" almost sisters, two against the world, things are about to change with the arrival of that kid on Emma's birthday.**

**Chapter one: the story of Sophie "Belle" Reed and Emma "Emie" Swan**

The first time Sophie Reed and Emma Swan met was on a bad night at the Sacred Heart Hospital in Chicago.

Emma was a blonde woman with hazel eyes and hardened features that could have passed for a pretty woman had it not been for the gash in her head, while Sophie was a small brunette of blue eyes with softer features and a more rounded face.

It wasn't anything special, just two women in a waiting room that decided to strike up a conversation. Emma was there to get stitches for getting into a brawl with a guy twice her size, and Sophie... well, Sophie was there to see the neurologist, because, in the six months that had passed since she woke up with no memory, she was not anywhere close to recovering her memory.

Actually, come to think of it, she was not even sure if her name was Sophie. She did not mind: after all, the doctors and nurses had to call her something to differentiate her from other "Jane Doe"s, and a nurse had been kind enough to give her Sophie as a temporary name when she was in the ICU. When the people from the hospital came to do the paperwork after no trace was found of her identity, she chose the surname Reed, as it was the one thing she remembered from whoever she was before, so it stuck.

It was that night that Emma and Sophie started a friendly chat, and, without either knowing, destiny would be throwing Sophie into her way a little too soon after they first parted.

* * *

The next time Emma saw Sophie was a week later, casually as they were both apartment hunting.

"So, we meet again," Sophie told her smiling, and Emma could not help but think that, for a girl with so many problems, Sophie seemed to be too happy all the time.

"So, looking for an apartment? Good luck with this one, the landlady is a witch," Emma said, pointing to the newspaper Sophie was clutching and to the building behind her.

"I was actually looking for someone that needs a roommate. Honestly, I've been at it for two days, but..."

"...you get shot down?" Emma guessed.

"Yeah. Apparently, nobody wants to room with an amnesiac. I believe that the words of the last person that interviewed me were "What if you get your memory back in a blink and you turn out to be some crazy-ass chick, or a psycho killer?""

"Ouch. Well, I'm in the same spot, and you should be thankful you got amnesia as a cover, because try doing a little research on me and, what do you get? A police track record and a stint in juvie. Nobody wants to room with this," she said, pointing to herself.

"So, still sleeping in your car?" Sophie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Still sleeping in the hospital?"

"Touché." The two women laughed, and Sophie continued towards the apartment Emma had just left, to see if there were any available spaces, completely missing the obvious solution to her and Emma's problem.

* * *

The next time Sophie met Emma was that night.

Chicago at night... well, if one was a blonde and bad things tend to keep happening to you, it was not a great place for a drunk and depressed Emma.

And Sophie felt equally depressed, because she had just been kindly kicked out in the middle of the night by the Sacred Heart Hospital staff.

Then, many things happened in a very fast pace:

Sophie wandered into a bar, looking for somewhere to avoid the rain.

Emma was drinking at the bar when she noticed Sophie lurking.

When Emma tried to wave Sophie, a drunk guy tried to grab her ass for the second time in the week.

Emma punched the dickhead, sending him sprawling over a nearby table.

The dickhead, unfortunately for Emma, had friends, big meaty friends that thought a woman like Emma was "fair game" after what she did to their friend.

Sophie then saw Emma was in trouble, and went for the biggest of the guys harassing Emma and, pretending to be a waitress, told him his wife was on the phone and wanted to talk to him.

When the man turned away to pick the phone, Emma saw Sophie.

"So, what did that idiot's wife want?" she asked breathless.

"What wife?" Sophie replied with a smirk, grabbing her by the arm. "Now, we run."

The two women rushed away, and when they reached the street they started to laugh, before continuing to walk away from the bar.

From then on, Emma and Sophie became Swan and Reed, two girls fighting against the odds.

The next morning, the two started to hunt for an apartment together, and they found a good deal soon. And, while the roommate stuff was supposed to last only until either of them could afford something better... that never happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**This Chapter was revised by Milarqui, who is an awesome person for putting up with my gramatic horrors and being nice about it, so yeah, he's to thank for the grmmar and I'm to thank for the story, half and half, I'm sorta liking this partnership thing...**

**now on with the disclaimer:****_ so hey welcome back…the idea is stil twirling in my head so untill it stops, you guy are stuck with me…_**

**DISCLAIMER: don't judge the writer by the grammar and BTW I don't own OUAT, if I did, most of the things that have happened in season two would have been cut from the script.**

**Chapter two: Ems and Belle**

_Present Day - Boston_

Belle sighed and adjusted the cake in her arms as she fumbled with the keys to their dingy two-bedroom apartment. It was Emma's 28th birthday, and she had been working late just so that she could afford to buy her roommate a present.

_So raise your glass if you are wrong,  
in all the right ways,  
all my underdogs,  
we will never be never be anything but loud  
and nitty gritty dirty little freaks  
won't you come on and come on and raise your glass,  
just come on and come on and raise your glass!  
_

Emma was probably already in: Belle could hear the Pink's "Raise your glass" blaring from the inside, so she did not try to call her out. Instead, she opened the door silently and gingerly dropped the cake on the kitchen counter. For once, Belle felt oddly nostalgic, looking around the tiny shoe box they shared. It was kinda sad how that beautiful five-pound cake would be eaten only by two people.

"Not that it matters," Belle told herself as she fingered the stacks of mail neither of them had ever bothered to open.

Honestly, it was not even Emma's fault that they had got used to their "screw up and move on" routine. By now, it was simply habit: sure, the first time they moved it had been Emma who wanted to just leave Chicago, and Belle had begged to come, because Emma was her only true friend. However, the next time they moved it was because she had been fired from her third job, and Emma did not even complain or threaten to stay in Oregon when she demanded, like a spoiled brat, to head somewhere else. Emma had just stood quietly in the doorway while Belle packed her things, and when Emma saw she was serious, she'd just shrugged and packed her stuff too.

That was the way it went for their first year together: one of them got in trouble or freaked out too much, and both packed up, no questions asked. That was why, in the last years, they had lived in more cities than they cared to count, Memphis, Detroit, San Francisco, Montana, Washington, the list was endless, and now Boston. It had just become routine for them: screwing up at work, getting robbed, raised rent or even an overly curious neighbor that would not stop pestering them were enough to raise the "let's get out of here" flag.

And, for Belle, that was fine. Emma also knew what it felt to be an outcast, to not really know where she came from, or who she really was, and the understanding went both ways.

In Emma's case, it was easy to fall into a routine with Belle. She was friendly without being nosy, and made Emma feel less alone. Having a friend to talk to when things got rough made Emma grateful: somehow, it was good to know that Belle was one call away if Emma needed to be bailed out of jail or she was stuck without a car in who-knows-where, because, like comrades in exile, war survivors and girl scouts in the wilderness, Emma and Belle stuck together.

So, time passed and jobs came and went. Belle bought a car instead of moving out. Emma got her a first edition of Dickens' "A Tale of Two Cities" for her birthday. Emma found out she liked leather jackets instead of coats. Belle took up photography as a hobby. Emma got rid of Belle's large collection of books. Belle bought herself a Kindle electronic book. They teased each other over dates, borrowed each other's clothes without asking, played pranks, laughed, cried, and got in trouble with a couple of landlords over the years, but never did they stop to think they were missing out on something.

Until they reached the point when it was easier to tell people they were sisters, even if they looked nothing alike, better to avoid questions about why they always relied on each other. And the month when they celebrated their second year as roommates, Emma realized it might not be that bad to have a fake sister to trust: after all, if someone is a good friend, bails you out, quarrels over apartment duties and gets wasted with you on New Year's Eve without once turning her back on you and betraying your trust, then she deserved to be called sister.

* * *

Sometimes, Belle had nightmares.

And sometimes, Emma did, too.

But Belle never talked about the swirls of dark purple smoke or the voices in her dreams, and Emma never talked about the baby cries that featured in hers.

There were many things neither of them talked about.

Emma's inability to forge strong friendship (save hers with Belle), Belle's tendency to bury herself in books if she wanted to forget a particularly bad experience, Emma's bruises that she got in her bail bondsperson job, Belle's OCD cleaning habit, or the fact that they both had detailed folders that featured very similar newspaper clippings about their past.

The one thing they never spoke about was that, since Emma met her six years before, Belle had not visibly aged a day.

Belle's age was something Emma had pondered about more than what she cared to admit. Even when, for all she knew, the people around them never seemed to notice that Emma got older while her "sister" always stayed the same. At first, Emma had thought that her friend was one of those people that "just aged really well", but afterte first four years together she knew it was not a trick of the light. Something was not right: the pictures they took just magically featured a young version of Belle in them as the time passed, but Emma knew in her mind, despite the disturbing technological evidence, that Belle never aged.

However, Emma, always the queen of skeptics, attributed that disturbing condition to some medically explicable syndrome Belle probably did not know she had. It was farfetched even for her, but what other explanation could she give? Besides, it was just one more of Belle's little quirks, Emma reasoned with herself, like having blue eyes, or amnesia. Maybe it was a side effect of whatever gave her the amnesia. Right?

Yet, even when she thought about it, Emma never brought the subject up, and even when Belle knew Emma wished to talk about it, she was grateful that her friend did not do so.

Indeed, there were lots of things that Emma and Belle did not talk about, even if they shared everything else. But, somehow, that was OK. They were both afraid of the questions and answers, so, in order to preserve the bond of sisterhood they had, Belle never pushed, and Emma never asked. Because they were good with how things were and didn't care for the dark details.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late, Emma. You just got to love the Boston traffic, real good on a Friday night," Belle said, realizing that Emma had probably arrived just a few minutes before her. Taking off her scarf, she waited until Emma came out of her room before talking. "So, did you catch that jerk in The Four Seasons?"

"Yeah. It was surprising, I didn't think that someone trying to do a runner would be willing to try and score with another woman while his wife is at home crying her heart out for his douchebag ass," Emma replied, dragging herself out of the dark interior of what Belle liked to call "the bomb zone", better known as Emma's bedroom, and looking rather strange, wearing her fuzzy slippers with her skimpy pink dress. "Ohh, Belle, you didn't have to," she cried, looking at the cake propped in the counter.

"Nonsense, Emma, you are twenty eight now, we deserve a little indulgence." Long past used to being called Belle instead of Sophie by her roommate/best friend/sister, Belle took out a candle shaped into the number 28 out of her bag. "It's chocolate and strawberry, lots of calories, one night only, Ems," she sang, waving the candle in front of Emma's face. "Tonight, we eat, we drink, we dance around our crappy apartment and we try not to get hangover because I work early tomorrow."

Emma laughed and grabbed the candle from Belle's hands, sticking her tongue out. "I'll go get the wine glasses, then."

They did this every year. It was sort of normal for them: they celebrated Emma's birthday like it was no big deal, cranking up the music and pouring cheap ten dollar wine in plastic cups while they ate two slices of a cake that would probably remain in the fridge until Christmas. And that was OK for them. It was more than OK for Emma: she had a job, she had her best friend, she did not need a big fancy party.

But, for some reason, that night, their tiny two-bedroom apartment seemed a bit depressing, with the coffee-stained couch and dubious window view. It was not something they could put a finger on, but it was just there, a feeling of emptiness.

"Emma, do you think we are missing out on something?" Belle asked suddenly, startling Emma out of her reverie.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, the way we've been going about, never tied to one place. It's not that I hate going cross country every five months, but..." Belle sighed.

"You think it's depressing we are not out in a nightclub with lots of friends and a pair of good looking guys?" Emma tried with a small smirk.

"No, of course not, you know I hate nightclubs," Belle said, rolling her eyes. "It's just that, well, look at us. We are celebrating, I bought a five pound cake, and there's only you and I to eat it," she finished, sinking into the couch and taking a cup of wine from Emma.

"It gets lonely for you too, huh?" Emma asked, dropping next to her. "I know it's not the ideal routine, I wish it wasn't like this sometimes, too," she whispered.

"Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to have a family?" Belle asked, looking out of the window up at the sky.

"Yeah, a place to call home."

"Someone that misses you when you aren't there."

"Somewhere to belong." Emma sipped her cup. "I wonder about that all the time, too."

"You know what," Belle said, with determination. "There's gotta be something bigger out there, Emma," she said, pointing outside. "Some purpose to this whole thing. You and I... we can't be meant to have crappy jobs and live in tiny shoe boxes forever." Belle crossed her arms over her chest. "Maybe destiny has all the answers."

"How do you suggest we find our destinies? Audition for American Idol?" Emma said with a small laugh. Belle's natural determination softened her expression a bit. "You really believe there's something more for us, don't you?"

"There's gotta be," her friend replied with a tired smile, "and something tells me there is."

The microwave alarm sounded before Emma could answer, and they snapped out of their funk.

"Well, we are not going to get depressed today, it's my birthday after all!"

"Just let me get my camera," Belle said, fishing her digital camera, which she had bought two years before, and pointed at the cake.

"Aww, Belle, doesn't your album have enough of those already?"

"Nope. Now, come on, light the candle so that I can snap one of us both next to the cake." Emma did as she was told, but she rolled her eyes: Belle liked to document every single detail of their ordinary lives with her camera. It was probably because she had no memories of her life before the past five years, and was making up for it now.

Photography, yeah it was a nice hobby, as long as it was not ruining your life: Belle had, over the years, collected enough embarrassing pictures of Emma that could serve as blackmail material for a lifetime should she ever need to resort to such tactics.

Belle managed to put the camera in a good position and started the timer to give herself the time to sit next to her friend. "OK, one, two, three." The picture snapped, and Belle picked the camera. Then, she glared at her roommate. "Emma, you made faces at me. Again." Emma was shown rolling her eyes next to a smiling Belle and the chocolate cake decorated with the 28 candle. "Let's do this." She put the camera again, and this time the photograph went perfectly.

"OK, now, can I blow the candle so we can dig into the frosting in peace?"

"Sure, I'm starving," Belle said, still a bit annoyed, "but first you have to make a wish."

Emma looked around, and realized they had both been okay with their "never settle" routine for six years now. Belle liked to travel around but she had never really found a place she wanted to stay in, at least permanently, while Emma just did not like to get attached to people. Until that night, when Belle and her shared their small talk, she had always thought they weren't missing out on much, but now she wanted to have something more.

So, on her twenty-eighth birthday, Emma Swan closed her eyes, and, before she blew out the candle, she wished for some place to belong.

As soon as she blew out the candle, there was a knock on the door.

"Huh? Who could it be? It's pretty late," Belle said, wondering.

"I'll go get it," Emma sighed. "It's probably the next door old lady, asking us to tone down the music." in the stereo Emma's favorite Bon Jovi song still kept blaring, making Belle almost agree with her assumption

"At this hour? Well, in that case, I'll go get it and you can go ahead and cut the cake." Emma opened her mouth to protest, but her friend gave her a look. "It's your birthday, Emmie, remember?"

"Alright, I wasn't saying anything."

Emma cut out two big slices of cake, paying little attention to the sounds coming from the doorway.

"So, Belle, who is it?"

"Emma! There's a kid here. He says he's your son."

"Oh, crap," Emma muttered before the kid in question bounced through the door and into the kitchen.

**So how exactly did Belle escape the curse? And when she did, why did she escape it only halfway? Got any theories? Let's see if anybody can guess.**


	3. Chapter 3

**..This chapter was revised by Milarqui..**

**Hi so, still, my head hasn't exploded and I still got the idea in my head so I keep writing while I wait to see about the university, turns out I got a crappy schedule like always for this semester, and I'm studying accounting so it's double crappy with all the math. Now this chapter is dedicated to all the people who favorited/bookemarked/followed me. Honestly this was supposed to be a oneshot but I think I'm incapable of writing short stuff.**

**Again DISCLAIMER:**_**don't judge the writer by the grammar and BTW I don't own OUAT, if I did, most of the things that have happened in season two would have been cut from the script.**_

**StarReader2009, sarabeth1, Thayli, SwanQueen4055, Brightfire15, Trekkie, Mjeeby, sirenasong, pinkcrazyness, ArielSprite and other unknown 73 visitors that made my world a better place..this is for you.**

**Thanks for the support **

**Chapter 3: Little Henry**

Belle could not help but to stare at the kid that had just entered in their apartment. He looked a lot like Emma, sure, but with brown hair. With his cute face, he would be really handsome when he grew up, she mused halfway through her shock. He was also hoisting up a backpack, which she guessed had a few things of importance.

"Hi, Emma, I'm Henry," the kid said. Belle looked at her roommate and easily noticed that, under a carefully crafted calm face, Emma was freaking out like there was no tomorrow. Without a word, Emma led Henry towards the kitchen, speaking with him in a sotto voce and then letting him raid their fridge in search of juice while she came back to Belle.

"What the hell," she muttered when she stood next to Belle. Then, Emma explained to her friend what Henry had told her.

"So, let me get this straight," Belle said, massaging her temples, "Henry came alone, in the middle of the night, to find you, and if I'm not mistaken he's the baby you gave up for adoption when you were eighteen, right?"

Emma nodded. "Yes, and I'm sure his adoptive mother is really worried."

She then turned towards the boy she had been separated from for ten years now. "Look, kid, it's nice to meet you and all of that, but, well, this is a hell of a birthday surprise. Why are you here?"

Belle's heart felt a little weak when she saw Henry's eyes fall. He had clearly been anticipating at least a little joy from his birth mother, and he moved to the couch, crestfallen. "Hey, Henry, do you want some cake? We probably were not going to eat it all anyway."

"Sure," Henry said, shrugging, and Sophie cut a big slice for him.

"And after this, you are going to go back home, before I call the cops," Emma said.

"If you do that, I'll tell the cops you kidnapped me," Henry countered.

"And they'll believe you because Emma's your birth mother," Sophie said, cocking her head to the said and narrowing her eyes at Emma. "He sure is a chip of your block, Ems."

"You know, Henry, I have this ability, sort of like a superpower," Emma said, looking at him with a leveled stare. "I can tell when people are lying, and you are."

"OK, I was lying. But you have to come home with me. It is important."

"Of course. I'm sure the people there are worried sick about you, right Belle?" Emma said. "And I don't even know how the heck you got here."

"Emma's right, you know, Henry? She could get in lots of trouble if you stayed here. It's OK to want to meet your mother, but your other mom might think she really kidnapped you."

"Sounds like her," Henry said.

"So, where do you live, anyway?" Emma asked Henry.

"Storybrooke, Maine."

"Storybrooke? Seriously?" Emma snorted, "Couldn't the place founders come up with something better?" but seeing Belle and Henry glaring at her, she quickly sobered. "So, Storybrooke it is. Don't get too comfy on that couch, kid. I'm going to take a fast shower, change, and then I'm taking you back home."

"Want me to watch him?" Belle asked, finding her friend's antics funny.

"Please," she replied, relieved, running in her bedroom's direction, leaving Belle and Henry alone.

"So," Belle said, breaking the silence.

"So," Henry repeated, wary. "Is she always like that?"

"Em? Oh, no, she's actually less of a grouch. It's just that she doesn't like surprises," Belle explained, trying to put him at ease. "I'm sure she'll warm up to you once the shock of meeting you wears off, you'll see."

"So, she talks about me?"

Belle shook her head.

"How do you know about me, then?"

"Your mom and I are best friends, and we share everything. I can tell she likes you already, you know?"

"Really?"

"Yes. She's happy you are here," she said, patting his head. He was a smart boy, Belle mused: enthusiastic and headstrong, something he had probably inherited from Emma. "But she's confused, Henry. Emma isn't exactly the easiest person to figure out, you just need to give her time. Take it from me, I've been her roommate for six years now."

"So, you know my mom really well?" Henry asked. "Really, really well?"

"Yes." _What is he getting at?_ she thought.

"So, if hypothetically, my adoptive mom was actually Evil with capital letters, and it's not just me making stuff up, what would she do?"

Belle tried not to snort. "Hypothetically, of course, she'd do her best to protect you. Emma's not the kind of person that deserts people who need her. But I'm sure your adoptive mother isn't as evil as you say."

"How do you know?" Henry challenged her. "She could be horrible, you don't even know her."

"Well, for instance, you look well fed and well clothed. Plus, I work at a library, and I've met kids that think their parents are evil all the time, when they are just strict."

"You work at a library? Cool, so, do you like fairytales?" Henry's abrupt change of topic almost gave Belle whiplash.

"Ahhh, yeah?"

At her response, it was like life had suddenly been breathed into Henry. Swift as a feather, he jumped from the couch and grabbed his backpack, taking a big leather-bound book out of it.

"_Once Upon A Time_," she read from over his shoulder. "It's a very beautiful book, you know. I haven't seen a leather-bound book so well conserved in ages."

"You have to read it," he said, placing it on her lap. "This book is special."

As soon as she touched the cover, it felt as though a giant jackhammer had decided to take on her head, which erupted into the mother of all headaches in the world. The feeling was so strong, she nearly shoved the book back to Henry's hands. Yet, not wanting to offend him, she smiled, covertly putting a hand to her head.

"Why don't you tell me what it is about? It'd save some time before Emmie comes out."

"Emmie?" Henry frowned, but quickly snapped out of it. "It's normal fairytales, right, but these are the real stories, what really happened, so many of them didn't get the happy ending like we all thought. So, the main focus is on Snow White and Prince Charming," Henry prattled on with enthusiasm, as if it was his favorite subject. "It this book, the Evil Queen is defeated but not permanently. She's stopped from ever harming Snow White and her family in the Fairy Tale Land, so to get revenge..."

"... she cast a curse," Belle whispered. She had the story before. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she had heard it. It did not have a happy ending, that much she was certain, but where had she heard the rest of the story?

"How did you know?" Henry asked, surprised.

"Lucky guess?" Belle replied, trying to cover her slip. Henry looked at her, strange, but continued.

"Well, anyway, the curse was supposed to take everybody to a new land, one where no one had a happy ending but the queen, and she cast it."

"Let me guess, that land is our world," Belle said, and Henry nodded. She then rolled her eyes in an Emma-like gesture. "Where's the happy ending in that? Honestly, your book's ending doesn't sound that good."

"Let me finish, OK? Snow White and Prince Charming found out a way to break the curse. The one person that could do it was their unborn daughter, and they had planned to send Snow to our world through a magical wardrobe that would save her, but Snow gave birth too early. Then, the Queen cast the curse, and after this really cool fight scene, Prince Charming managed to send the baby through the wardrobe just before the curse swallowed the land, so that, when the baby became twenty eight, she could come find them and break the curse."

"And, what's next?" Belle asked with curiosity, but part of her knew that that was the end. Somehow, by instinct, Belle was already anticipating Henry's next words.

"That's it, there's no more to it. The baby went through the wardrobe, the fairytale characters ended up in our world with fake memories, and the Evil Queen got what she wanted in the end," Henry explained. Belle nodded, feeling her headache grow worse as Henry's storytelling progressed. It was almost as if something inside her didn't want her to listen, but she had to ask.

"What was the baby's name?"

"Emma," Henry said, his eyes meeting hers. Belle knew, without asking, what Henry had in his mind: he really thought that his birth mother, her best friend, was the savior of the fairy tale land.

"You really believe it," she whispered, feeling her headache escalate to heartstopping proportions. "And today is Emma's twenty eighth birthday. Oh, my gosh, she's going to freak out."

"Do you really think so?" Henry, apparently, had not though that was possible.

"Trust me, kid, I know it. Emma is not really into believing in stuff she doesn't have proof about. She's going to freak out, or worse, she'll be nice about it but in the end she'll pave the way for a quick exodus." Her headache was so huge she wasn't even thinking when she told Henry the truth.

Henry's eyes were filled with sadness. It was going to be harder than he thought, but heroes never had it easy in the stories, either. After a few minutes of thinking, Henry squared his shoulders. "Then, I'll just have to work hard at making her believe, then."

"I don't doubt your drive, Henry," Belle said, seeing his face. She had seen that look on Emma before, like a silent vow to fight for something or die in the process. If Henry was anything like her friend, which was something she was sure of, then she would do well in starting to pack up, because they were probably going to stay in there for the long haul. "If you have even one of Emma's stubborn genes, then I'm sure you won't stop until you get what you want."

"She might not believe me at first, but it's her destiny. She's supposed to bring back the happy endings to Storybrooke."

Belle smiled and put the dirty plates in the sink. She then took a bottle of painkillers from the pantry, downing three with one gulp.

"Is that what you want, Henry? For Emma to believe in something that seems entirely made up?"

"It's not made up," the boy protested. Belle raised an eyebrow, and he sighed. "Fine, it sounds made up, but it's not. I just have to get her to Storybrooke, that's the first step."

"And?" Belle probed, knowing there were more reasons to it.

"And I also want a real mom," he said, looking down. "One that loves me."

"Henry, I'm sure your mother loves you."

"She doesn't," he whispered. "She says she does but she's lying. She always makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, like she wants me to be someone else, and she also makes other people think I'm crazy. I see the other kids with their moms at school, and they look happy, even if they don't know anything about the curse. Sometimes I just want to be happy, with a mom that loves me, like them."

Belle was unable to not feel sorry for him. He was in the same wagon as Emma and her, looking for someone that cared about them, some place to belong to.

"Well, then I suggest you to start by telling Emma that part," she said, patting his shoulder. "She'll understand better if she knows how you really feel, and then maybe you can work your way into talking about the curse. Take it slowly, baby steps, and she'll feel less freaked out that way."

"So, you believed me?"

"You are asking me to believe in a curse cast by the Evil Queen that froze a town full of fairytale characters for twenty eight years Henry."

"Oh, right, baby steps," Henry sighed. "But, don't you believe? Just a little bit?"

Belle smiled. "I'll tell you what I believe. I believe that all people have magic inside of them, and I believe in Emma. I believe in her because she's my best friend, and because she's the strongest person I know," she replied, not actively agreeing but not denying anything either. "And I believe, that if there's someone who's got what it takes to give people their happy endings, whether they come from a fairy tale or not, and break all curses that need to be broken, that person is Emma."

At her words, Henry gave her a thousand watt smile, which she returned. "She really is great, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she's quite good if I say so myself."

"By the way, why does Emma call you Belle? I thought your name was Sophie," Henry asked, changing topics again as fast as lightning.

Belle laughed, grateful for a change of subject. "It's a long story. It involves a land lady in North Carolina, Halloween costumes and a very embarrassing video your mother refuses to delete." She wiped her hands in a dishcloth and offered her hand to him. "If you promise not to share the secret, I'll tell you one day."

"I will," he replied, giving her a high-five.

"OK, I'm ready," Emma chimed suddenly, appearing on her room's doorway. "What were you two gossiping about?" she asked, eyeing the way her friend and son were covertly looking at her.

"Nothing," they said at the same time, making Emma chuckle

"I'm going to take a shower and get ready too. Ems, why don't you make Henry a pop tarn, in case he gets hungry on the way?" Belle chipped.

"Wait a minute, I didn't way you were coming with us," Emma snapped, knowing there was no way she could maintain her composture if she had to take care of Henry and Belle for the next couple of hours.

"Yeah, as if that was going to stop me." Belle gave Emma a look. "I'm coming with you, and you can't argue."

"You have to work tomorrow."

"I'll get Mrs Donnelly to cover for me."

"What about the reading at the elder people home?"

"It can wait."

"It's your turn to do the laundry this week."

"I'll do it when we get back," Belle replied, knowing she would probably not have to do it.

"But," Emma opened her mouth to protest, but Belle cut her off.

"You are not going to go alone, get it?" she said, glaring at Emma. "We are sisters, for good and bad. We have each other's backs, and wherever you go, I follow. That's the deal, the routine, the one, two, three."

"But, but, this is something I have to do by myself, I don't want you to go around, following me because you feel you have to."

"Puh-lease. If it were me with a kid, going somewhere to face a very angry adoptive mother or family, you would insist to come with me, and you know what? I wouldn't be protesting this much," she snapped.

Emma sighed. _Here we go again_, she thought. Belle did not get pissed off often and rarely went into tirades. That was Emma's field of work normally. However, when her roommate got angry, she knew that there was no use in trying to argue her case.

"So, this is what is going to happen, Ems. I'm going to take a shower, I'm going to dress for chill climate, and then I'm getting in my car and follow yours towards Storybrooke, whether you like it or not. Got it?" Belle said, putting her fists on her hips.

"You finished?" Emma asked, and Belle nodded. She sighed again. She knew she was going to regret it, but she also knew Belle would do whatever she wanted, so why prolong what couldn't be avoided? In the six years she had known Belle, she had learned the hard way that, for a bookworm, Belle had a tendency to get her way when she thought someone was doing her an injustice. "Then, OK."

"What?"

"I said, OK, you can come with us. Now go, shower up while I get Henry some food, we won't be waiting forever."

"Really? Thank you," Belle replied, dancing her way out of the kitchen and into her own room.

"You're welcome, sis," Emma muttered, dropping her head in her arms. This was going to be one long roadtrip to Maine, she knew.

Meanwhile, Henry could hear Belle singing off key "Hey-ho, hey-ho, to Storybrooke we go", and he tried not to wonder if his mom's friend was something out of the ordinary as well. After all, she did look like one of the other characters in his book...

**So I got a question, is Beauty and the Beast in Henry's book?, I think not, or else Henry would have figured out who Gold's alter ego was much sooner, Next chapter will feature what I think you all want to see, a snipet of Belle's escape from the curse, meeting a couple of the town's residents and perhaps..her meeting with mr G?, I don't know, (really I don't nothing is written yet) but I hope so because I want to see how that scene plays out as much as you do...reviews please, I'm a writer with a short attention span, I get discouraged (and encouraged) pretty easy.**

_**Again thanks to all for the support and a special shout out to **__**sarabeth1**__** and **__**pinkcrazyness**__**, my two very first reviews *squeal***_


	4. Chapter 4

**So, hey, people, listen. Remember how I told you that I study Accounting (which sucks) but I still get to write so that makes me a happy person? OK, so something I've yet to tell you is that, while I certainly write in a computer at home, when it comes to posting it has to be done elsewhere: either I go to a public library where internet is free... or resign myself to the (obviously) more painful solution that is resorting to beg my mother for her laptop (she's something of a Cora when it comes to me doing anything remotely fun or interesting, as illustrated by my current career path), so I hope you understand the extremes I'm willing to go just because I like receiving reviews...**

**On other news: I finally figured out why and how Belle escaped the curse. Yay for me. It's all in this chapter, and it was fun writing all this, so, everybody, thanks for the encouraging reviews.**

**Disclaimer: Don't judge the writer by the grammar (even if now there are few to none mistakes, thanks to Milarqui). I don't own OUAT, because, if I did, most of the things that have happened in Season 2 would have been cut off from the script and replaced with something else.**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter 4: Belle**

_From Belle's dream journal_

_In my dreams, there are always shadows. Murky monsters made of grey smoke that always seem to be following me, preying on me, surrounding me, making me fear for my life and run to wherever it is that offers refuge from the shadows, and while I run they get stronger, as if my fear made the shadows happy._

_Then, there's the girl, and trust me, no matter what my nightmare is about, she always appears, always dressed in blue, always with a chain in her ankle, always trapped where I can't reach her to free her._

_I've never seen her face, and if I have I don't remember. All I know is that she seems to be as tall as me, her hair is longer than mine, her skin is paler, and I know it's because she's been trapped for so long. If only I knew what her face looks like, we might be able to pass as twins._

_She's sometimes behind a wall, sometimes she's trapped in a mirror, other times she's pounding on a window, and other times it's a glass bubble._

_Every time I see her, she's always talking, or screaming, I don't know. I've never heard her, but I see her lips move and the frantic motions she does with her hands. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of her eyes, and although I don't remember the color, I know they always seem to be begging me to do something... but what?_

_She's always trying to reach me through the obstacles, as if she knew I held the power to do something and break her free. I feel like I disappoint her every time I wake, because I can't find a way to break out of her prison. When she sees me, she puts her hand to the glass and I put my hand there too, but we can't touch each other because the smoke around her won't let us, so the girl pounds her fist against the barrier that separates us._

_And even when I don't hear her, I can tell she's screaming._

* * *

The sun was shining.

_At last_, Belle thought. _Sunshine, blessed sunshine, don't leave ever again._

"Earth to Belle, you copy?" a voice in her ear said, breaking her out of her reveries. Silently adjusting the bluetooth earpiece, Belle tried not to complain.

"I copy. Are we there yet?" Belle had been shadowing Emma's car for hours already, and, with the exemption of a stop to get some gas, they had yet to make a decent, real stop for food. One whole night of driving behind Emma meant that Belle couldn't be happier to see the sunrise.

"Not much longer, just hang in there," Emma said. The trip had not been as bad as she had anticipated. But, seriously, where was this Storybrooke place? At the end of the rainbow?

"So, have you talked to Henry yet?"

"Yes," Emma sighed, watching her son asleep in her bug's backseat.

"And?"

"Kid's got issues," she whispered.

"Oh, Emma," Belle laughed, "he's your son, of course he has issues.

"No, not like that, I mean real-life-need-to-see-a-therapist issues," Emma said, trying not to raise her voice. "He thinks I'm from a fairy tale book, and apparently his adoptive mom isn't the good and loving creature I thought she was when I gave him up for adoption."

"Sooo," Belle asked, stretching out her sentence, "what are you going to do about it? Just dump him with that woman and be done with it?"

"Well, yeah." Emma had not thought about other possibilities either. "Look, she might not be the emotional sort, but she's still Henry's mom. Who am I to question her parenting? Just the woman who gave him up because she wasn't ready to be a mother."

"That's not you," Belle replied with a tiny bit of disappointment. "You gave him up because you were a scared teenager that was alone in the world. Emmie, I know you wanted Henry to be happy and safe, and then that meant giving him up was the best option, but you can see now he's not happy."

"Please, Belle, don't make this harder than it needs to be," Emma pleaded, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice. "We are going to drive into town, I'll return Henry to his mother, and then we are going back to Boston and finish out that birthday cake."

"Back to Boston? Sure, because Henry doesn't change anything for you."

"He doesn't," Emma said, although Belle was able to catch the lie. For a woman that was really good at catching people at lying, she really sucked at lying herself. "We have an apartment, we have jobs, and you have an appointment tomorrow with your new neurologist, and all of that is in Boston."

"Ha! Don't tell me you think this one will finally figure out what's wrong with me. They all say the same thing," Belle replied, annoyed. "Your memory is gone, poof, babum, farewell, and we don't know why, because we know your head is clearly damaged but nothing abnormal shows in the CAT scans."

"Maybe this one will finally tell you what's wrong."

"Or more probably he'll say the same thing. Trust me, I don't necessarily have to get that CAT scan in Boston." Emma's car sped up a bit. "My memory will come back one day, I hope, and if it doesn't that's OK. Just don't try to use it as an excuse to avoid getting to know Henry."

"I just... I just don't want to complicate things for him. What if he likes me, and wants me to be his mom? I'm not ready for that, not yet."

"Emmie, at least give him a chance to know you. Do you know what I would give to remember just a little bit of what my parents were like?" Belle did not like to guilt trip Emma, especially when the subject of parents was a touchy one for her, but, in this instance, she deserved it. "If you have a chance to give him even one good memory of you, then do it, God knows how much it sucks to not have any good memories of your childhood. Or any memories at all."

"I'm not falling for that, Belle. Kid's looking at me with those eyes, like a reminder of how much I screwed up as a mother." Emma sighed. "Sometimes I think you are lucky you don't remember your past. I would give anything to forget mine."

"Don't say that, Ems," Belle mumbled. "Never say that."

* * *

_Fairy Tale Land, 28 years before_

Belle sat in the queen's dungeons, looking at her tiny window. The guards outside had been restless for some time now, and she knew something big was going to happen. Even the Queen, who liked to visit her once in a while to gloat, had not set foot in her prison for months.

She counted the days, how they became weeks, and wondered once more what the Queen wanted from her, why she had kept her imprisoned for four years already. She also wondered about Rumple too. All the time, actually. She wondered what he was doing, if he ever thought about her, and she wondered about the complicated (she had come to learn that) relationship he had with the Queen.

She also spent her time making up stories in her head about the people she cared about. Stories that kept her from going mad, and if she concentrated she could almost do it right. She could pretend to know what Mulan was doing, pretend that Philip had found his princess and that, together with Mulan, they slayed Maleficent. She could pretend her father had made their kingdom prosper again. Make up stories where he found someone to love him, and ease the hole she had left in his heart. And even when she knew when she was fooling herself, Belle's hope for the people she loved kept her strong.

It was then, while she wondered once more about what was happening outside, that the door to her cell opened.

For the second time since she was imprisoned, someone wanted to free her.

"Who are you?" Belle asked the man who had barged in. Unlike the one with the hook, who had immediately asked for her help, this one did not; he just run to her shackles and started to fiddle with them.

"My name is Jefferson, I'm here to help you get out," the man said, carrying a small knapsack and wearing a ridiculous top hat. Belle was still wary of him despite the help.

"Why?" _Is he with the Queen? Does he want me to tell him something to harm Rumple, like the hooked man did?_

"I know what you are thinking, and no, I don't want anything from you. Don't hide your foot, the chains are enchanted." Jefferson took out a small pouch from inside his coat. "Look, it's fairy dust. Do you think someone who wanted to harm you would have fairy dust?"

"Fine," Belle conceded, sticking her foot out. Jefferson poured the dust on her shackles, and they dissolved, freeing her after too much time chained. "I still don't believe you, though."

"Look, Belle, yes, I know who you really are. We don't have much time, so put this one, because right now we have to run." He handed her a cloak, and she saw the sincerity in his eyes, so she decided to take the chance.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, offering his hand.

"I trust you enough to take the chance to escape this prison," she said, fastening her cloak

"Good girl, now run, before the guards wake up," Jefferson replied, pulling her out of the door as fast as he could.

"You drugged them?"

"I did not harm, mutilate or kill them if that's what you are asking. They'll wake up soon," he replied, leading Belle down a multitude of stairs and secret passages before taking her hand to urge her to run faster, "not that it will matter much."

They reached a boulder at the end of a narrow passage, and Jefferson stopped. "This is the way out, now help me push it out of the way." Belle did so, and soon they were basking in the sunlight. Belle realized that, after so much time in the dungeon, she was finally free. Then, she turned to Jefferson.

"Now, will you answer? Why are you helping me? If you want to know how to harm Rump... the Dark One," Belle corrected herself, "I already told the Queen I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"

"Hey, calm down, it's fine. I know the Dark One, and trust me, he's fine right now. What I need from you doesn't have anything to do with him, I promise."

"Then, why?"

"I'll tell you as we run, we don't have much time." Jefferson took off again, running as fast as a rabbit, and Belle hurried off after him, breaking into a sprint and hoping not to trip with forest twigs like the last time. "Long story short, the Queen has created a curse. Her grudge is only against Princess Snow White, but apparently we all have to suffer her vendetta.

"I know the feeling."

"I managed to make friends with a couple of very talkative servants at the Charmings' castle and you won't like what I found out."

"I see things have changed a lot since the Queen captured me, but that still doesn't explain why you rescued me."

"I was getting to that. The Queen is casting a curse that will take us all to a land without magic, a place where none of us but for the Queen will remember our true selves, and only the Queen will have power there."

"That's horrible! Is there a way to break it?"

"There is one. Snow and Charming's unborn daughter. Apparently, the Dark One told them they had to get her to safety, so that, on her twenty-eighth birthday, she can find her way to wherever we end up and break the curse." Jefferson finally stopped, and took her hands. "That's why I need your help."

"I don't understand."

"There are two reasons why I broke you out. The first was that, right now, the only person more powerful than the Queen and her associates is the Dark One, and if she has you she could use you against him, either here or there."

"You think she'll use me to control him?" Belle asked, scared.

"No. On the contrary. You, Belle, have no idea of what a man in love is capable of doing when he sees his true love threatened," Jefferson's eyes flashed with anger and regret, "but I do, and believe me, if the Queen is making us all suffer because of her vendetta against Snow White, I don't want to know what the Dark One would do if he had a vendetta against Regina."

"It would be..." Belle tried not to think about the possibilities.

"Catastrophic. Which is a good plus to my escape plan, since it will avoid that part. Though, the big reason is another." Jefferson let go of Belle's hands and took a map out of his pocket, opening it and starting to look around.

"Then, if this isn't about preventing Rumplestiltskin's wrath, harming the Queen or doing a good deed, why did you get me out of there?"

"You are a curse breaker."

"A curse breaker?" She had heard of curse breakers before, but they were all in her books. They were supposed to be champions, knights, adventurers that traveled to far off lands, breaking curses and collecting the bounty offered for that. Her father had once called them bloodsucking mercenaries. "No, I'm not a curse breaker. I was just lucky to be in the right place at the right time. Also, aren't curse breakers supposed to be magically gifted?"

"And you think you are not?" Jefferson asked, raising an eyebrow, pulling her into a secret cave that was hidden under a cover of well-placed foliage. "Answer me this, which other person in the world has got as clos as you did to breaking the Dark One's curse, or better yet, in Prince Philip's case, which other knight would have figured out he was actually cursed instead of thinking he was a monster?"

"I was fortunate. But how did you know about the yao guai?"

"The Queen's guards like to talk too much when they are drunk."

"Oh," she muttered, looking away. "But even if I were a curse breaker, I would be useless. According to you, the only one that can break the curse is Snow White's daughter." Belle sat on the cave ground, watching how her feet bled from running through the forest barefoot. Jefferson did not notice, instead he just handed her a pouch with food.

"But, what if the baby gets killed in this new land? Or if she grows up and doesn't know how to find us? Or if she ends up in a different land? Or if she is raised by evil people and doesn't want to help us? Nobody in the kingdom has thought about that, but I have, and that's where you come in."

"You have a plan," Belle realized. "Tell me."

"Long story short, I was trapped with the Queen of Hearts for some time and learned a few things about portals." He then pointed to his hat. "This is a hat I made that can create portals with a bit of the fairy dust I used to break your chains. I had one before that was a bit more reliable, but unfortunately this hat can only send one person away, without the option to return. White magic, as you might know, is quite flimsy," Jefferson explained. "And I want to send you."

"Why?" Belle gasped. Jefferson glared at her. "I mean, why don't you go? The hat is yours, and you clearly know more about the curse than me."

"I have a daughter, and she's going to be helpless and at the mercy of Regina in this new land if I'm not with her."

"You want to protect her, don't you?" Belle now understood him, why he had taken such great risks to rescue a woman he did not know for a plan he had concocted out of desperation: he wanted to protect someone he loved.

"Even if she does not remember me, I love her with all my soul. I don't trust the Charmings, and I need to make sure there's another way to outsmart the Dark Curse in case the Savior fails, for my Grace."

"You aren't sure this will work."

"No, but I hope it will." Jefferson sighed, and took off his hat. It was a normal hat, but when she touched it, she felt the magic within. "It's going to be very dangerous, Belle, and I can't let something like this be on the shoulders of an unknown, unborn child."

"Then, what do I need to do?" Belle asked.

"Are you sure you want to do this? I already told you, it's going to be dangerous, and it might not even work."

"But if it does, and you send me through the portal, I'd be able to find a way to break the curse, and then you'd be reunited with your daughter."

"You are fine with this, then?"

"I know what it's like to want the safety of the ones you love over anything in the world, no matter the cost. I gave myself up to the Dark One for that same reason, remember?" She laughed without humor. "Compared to that, jumping through a portal and finding our people in an unknown land will be easy."

"Then, drink this," he said, giving her a vial with a sparkly white liquid. "Water from Lake Nostos, mixed with fairy dust. The Queen will be casting her curse any minute now, and this potion will protect you from the darkest parts of the curse, but it won't prevent you from suffering all of its effects." Somewhere in the distance, thunderclaps resounded with fury.

"So, I will lose my memory?"

"It is a possibility, but the potion will protect your mind from gaining false memories." Belle opened the vial and drunk its contents. "Now, the hat is, like I said, a very flimsy one. It's only a door, so it won't be able to protect you from anything on either side of it." Jefferson and Belle walked outside, and watched the clouds of dark green smoke advance all along the land, the wind tearing at them with force. "Now, Belle, this is what you need to do: find the savior, Prince Charming and Snow White's child! Her name is going to be Emma, do you hear me?" Jefferson shouted over the wind, putting the hat on the ground and spinning it.

"But, if I don't have any memories, how will I know I need to find her?"

"The potion will keep the Dark Curse from stripping you of everything you are, and you are a curse breaker," he explained as the smoke got closer. "Let's hope that the magic inside you will lead you to the magic inside her!"

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then you find me, and I'll figure out a way to wake you up." A portal started to open from the hat. "Portals of white magic are moody, so I don't know when in time you'll end up. You might land at a time when Snow's daughter has grown up, she might be a teenager, a little girl or a grown woman, so you will have to take that into account."

"I understand. I'll do my best to find her, and I'll help her break the curse!"

"I knew I had chosen the right person!" Jefferson smiled proudly at her.

"One last question," Belle said, looking down at the swirling white light orb the hat had turned into. "Will I see him again?"

"If everything goes well, you will, eventually, but until the curse breaks, neither of you will recognise the other."

"Then, I'll take my chances on the land without magic."

"Ready?" he asked, looking at the small portal.

"Yes."

"Then, good luck."

Belle jumped into the orb just as the green smoke reached them.

That was the last thing she remembered.

And when she woke up in the land without magic, she had no memories of who she was.

* * *

_Road to Storybrooke, present day_

"Look, Ems, I know it's hard for you, and a shock to your system, but accept it. Henry's already in your life to stay. I know you and I doubt anything will ever go back to how it was after today."

"Well, I don't think so."

"Denial is not only a river in Egypt," she said in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up. Once I leave Henry with his adoptive mom, you and I are going back to our lives in Boston," Emma said, once more trying to make that penetrate Belle's skull.

"Yes, that's a good one. I know you, Emma Swan."

"I'm going to hang up now. My cell's out of battery, and I'm not going to reply to or encourage your delusions."

"Henry's your son, and if there's something I've learned about you, is that you care about the people that are important to you, so yes, I think you are lying to yourself when you say you can leave him and not come back again."

"I didn't say..."

"Bye." There was a beep, and Emma sighed, keeping her eyes on the road.

Belle liked to think of herself as a smart person. If Emma's "superpower" was to know when people lied, Belle's was to read people's intentions. She was quite intuitive and could tell when someone was having a problem. It helped in her job interviews and when Emma got into trouble. All Belle had to do was to ask the right questions and people opened up. Emma called it "the Sophie charm", and of course forbid her from using it when she was around.

Emma said it was probably a side effect of spending six years jumping from one therapist to another, but Belle just thought it was something she'd always done well, being sympathetic with others. And now she was doing it on Emma. asking questions the blonde didn't want to answer. Normally, she'd give Emma space, but this situation wasn't normal, Belle reasoned: a child was involved, and that warranted a little rule breaking from her part, right?

Luckily, neither Belle nor Emma had much time to ponder about their talk, because five minutes later a happy looking sign came into view, effectively comfirming they were in the right place, as they both read:

"WELCOME TO STORYBROOKE"

**I know, I know, last chapter I promised they would be seen interacting with the Storybrooke people, but then I got to the scene with Jefferson and I thought "what if that scene in the finale had happened before the curse was broken?", and I decided you all deserved to have a chapter dedicated to how she escaped the evil green smoke. Also, by the time I wanted to write something more the library was closing... **

**She'll be meeting Mr Gold in the next chapter, I promise. I already have an idea about how it's going to be (cheers to me), and maybe Regina if I have the time, but that's a tough one... Now, after I wrote this chapter, I ended up really curious about Jefferson: what would he have done those 28 years if he'd actually had a personal guarantee of the curse breaking? I imagine he would be more relaxed, less obsessed over hats, enjoying an indoor pool somewhere in his mansion and watching Grace with his telecope, eating popcorn while he waits for Belle. **

**Ps: thanks so much for the reviews: big shout out to la tigre, sarabeth1 and fire1. Your reviews made me so happy I did the impossible to be able to post tonight.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to Milarqui for his invaluable help with correcting my grammatical horrors, this chapter has been revised by him, (I think you deserve a medal for what you did), so here we go.**

**Old A/N: Hey guys! So, there's been a lot going on in my life. Turns out I'm halfway across the country, visiting a sick grandfather AND HATING IT. I'm currently in the country, which means little wifi, crappy cellphone calls from friends who probably don't care I'm stuck in a faraway land, being treated like a baby by my mother and relatives twice my age I don't know who magically think they know me (some are nice but the rest are really awkward), and, yes, did I mention NO COMPUTERS? So I'm hanging in here but in a really pissed off way, so if this chapter comes out as sarcastic, or overly sweet, remember that's just my inner demon lashing out. I just want to go home, my birthday is next week, and turning eighteen isn't looking like a joy ride..**

**Anyway, I don't own a laptop, this chapter could be better if I tried really hard but I'm happy with how it came out... Now, on with the disclaimer:**

**_Don't judge the writer by the grammar, I don't own OUAT. If I did, most of the things that have happened in Season Two would have been cut off from the script._**

**Chapter five: Storybrooke, Maine**

The gray Mercedes followed Emma's yellow bug into town. Belle wondered if Emma was alright: after all, it had been fifteen minutes since she had told her to wake Henry up, and so far Emma did not seem to be stopping or heading towards a certain location.

"Kid won't cough up the address," Emma's voice grumbled into Belle's ear as the bluetooth activated.

"OK, pull over by the clock tower, I'll talk to him," she said, trying not to feel tired. Gosh, she was going to need a nice cup of tea after this travel.

Surprisingly, Emma did as she was told, and a minute later Belle climbed out of her car, ready to battle with what she knew was going to be a double dose of Emma's stubborn genes.

"So, Henry, why won't you tell Emma where your mom lives? You know that, if she wanted, she could get it out of you," Belle said with a smile, and Emma briefly envied her for having that particular character trait that made people feel at ease with her.

"You can't take me to her, she's evil. Sophie, tell Emma, please," Henry begged.

"Belle, tell Henry I have to take him to his mom, and that no matter what subterfuge he uses, I'm not budging."

"OK, you two stop it. You," Belle pointed at Henry, "made your way to Boston, alone, with who knows what money, and without telling anybody," she said, trying to be kind but firm.

"I know?" Henry said, confused.

"So, if you really wanted to prove to Emma that you are a good kid, so that she won't freak out, wouldn't that mean playing nice and returning to the mother that is at home probably thinking something along the lines of-"

"Who knows what could happen to Henry, alone, out there?" Emma interrupted. Belle noticed that she had said it with sincerity, as if realizing she herself was thinking along the same line.

"Yes, exactly, so do you understand where I'm coming from?"

For a second, Belle closed her eyes and pictured herself in a Starbucks, drinking a mug of her favorite tea instead of being here, dealing with her sister's drama.

"I guess." Henry sighed. "I'll be nice, then."

"Good," Belle nodded. "And you," she said, turning to Emma, "for goodness sake, it's been a long night, he's a child so of course he's going to sulk. You, on the other hand, are not a child, so you get to be the parent for five minutes." She sighed. "Be gentle, I know it is not you forte, but scolding isn't mine either, and I'm doing it, see?"

Emma watched Belle, dwarfed down in her pink trench coat, her white headband and black dress with black tights, and couldn't help but laugh at the way her friend was trying to seem intimidating. "You are right, scolding isn't your forte," Emma laughed again, "at all."

"Do not mock me, Emmie," Belle said, crossing her arms. "I was being serious."

"OK, OK, I get it. Henry nice, Emma nice, all nice, all calm down." Emma snorted. "I'll go ask for directions."

"Look, that man with glasses over there, maybe he could help," Belle said, pointing at a red-haired man that had just turned the corner.

"He's coming this way, so it looks like I won't have a problem at all."

The red-haired man turned out to be Dr Archibald Hopper, and after a quick introduction, Emma and Belle learned that (a) he was Henry's shrink (b) where Regina Mills, Henry's adoptive mother, lived and (c) that she was the town mayor.

Emma told him how she was Henry's birth mother, and after a talk about Henry's "quirks", the doctor told them Regina was a really strict, hard woman, so Emma would have to be prepared for her to be less than welcoming. Belle, who had met many times with shrinks, was very amused by watching how the man Henry claimed was Jiminy Cricket stuttered when Emma asked the hard questions.

Finally, Archibald took his leave, and a sulking Henry folded his arms across his chest as he mumbled "Traitor" and stoped his way towards Emma's car. Belle then followed Henry.

"Needless to say, I'm coming with..."

"Not this time, Belle," Emma interrupted her. She knew her sister had good intentions, but Emma tried to picture how Henry's mother would react to Belle's curious nature, and decided it was probably better if she did this alone. "She's the woman who adopted my son. She's going to be angry that he ran away to look for me."

"All the more reason for me to come."

"I was the one who gave him up, I was the one that was too messed up to give him the life he deserved." Emma resisted the urge to lean her head sideways on Belle's shoulder, like she usually did when she wanted to cry. This was no moment to show weakness. "She'll have a right to be angry."

"You know I'm not going to leave you alone, right?"

"I know, and you never have in all of six years, but I need to do this, Belle," Emma whispered firmly. "Please, it's something I'd like to do alone."

"I understand," Belle said. "It might be even good for you in hindsight." Belle tried to sound a little more upbeat, but Emma knew what was going on around her mind.

"We both have our personal demons, sis. You know there are always those times we need to face them without each other."

"I know." Belle gave Emma's hand a squeeze to tell her she wasn't hurt by the request. "And I know you'll face this woman with your chin held high, it's who you are."

"He's my son, for better or worse, and I need to show him I'm someone responsible, to let him have at least that." Emma's walls broke for a second as she looked back at Henry. "He really is a good kid, isn't he?"

Belle nodded and sent the child a warm look.

"He'll be sorry to know you are leaving so soon," she replied, sadly.

"He'll have his own mother to comfort him," Emma mumbled, looking away from Henry. "By the way, you gave in too easily, what happened to "we are in this together?" Pfff, had it been me, I'd have held my ground until you saw reason," Emma joked, trying in vain to change the subject.

"Sorry for being a softie, next time you make puppy eyes at me I'll be more stubborn," Belle replied, casually reaction to Emma's jab and pretending she didn't see her friend's fear. "Promise."

"Well, I'm off to meet the woman who adopted my son. Wish me luck," Emma said.

"And what am I supposed to do while I wait for you?"

"I don't know. Read? Walk? Photograph some unsuspecting townspeople with your camera?" Emma said, raising an eyebrow at her sheepish friend. "Come on, Belle, this is Maine and you have a day off, you know you want to."

"Maybe I will," Belle laughed. Both of them knew perfectly well that the thing loved most, next to her Kindle, was her precious vintage camera, and Emma knew her friend would be raving about "beautiful photographs" the whole way while they drove back to Boston. It had been forever since she had encouraged her to take a day off. "Will you be OK?"

"I'll give you a call when I finish so we can drive out of here before noon, OK?"

Belle shrugged wordlessly. "I'll be the girl taking pictures of unsuspecting strangers." She smiled as she watched Emma climb into her car with young Henry in tow.

Now that she was alone, Belle went back to her car and took out the bottle of ibuprophene she had in her glove compartment. What was with this town that was giving her so many migraines? Calmly massaging her tembles, Belle fetched the Nikon camera she always carried in there in case she found something pretty to photograph.

"Finally," she muttered, grasping the camera's leather strap and getting into her car. Belle looked at the clock tower and frowned. Her wrist watch said 8:45, not 8:15.

Then she noticed it. The clock's hands were not moving at all. So, the clock wasn't working, huh? Perhaps that's where Henry had taken his theory from.

Belle spent the morning driving around Storybrooke, stopping at any place that looked quirky enough, her blue eyes observing everything like a predator. She snapped pictures of every person that passed her car's window when they were not looking, as it made for beautiful portraits: as she had once told Emma, if the subject did not know he/she was being photographed, it was more realism, less fakery.

She found the white-haired carpenter working outside the woodshop particularly interesting, or maybe it was the light that always hit the wooden furniture around him just with the right angle, making the place look like a fairytale workshop.

She also found a couple of nuns. "This ought to be interesting, one doesn't see nuns streetwalking in Boston," Belle told herself, holding up her camera and snapping a photo right in the second when the younger nun tripped. "This will look blurred," she sighed.

Deciding it was probably better to walk around for a bit, Belle got out of her car and moved to a nearby bench, from where she kept taking photographs.

However, while the people she was aiming at with her camera really did not notice her, it was the people she wasn't looking at with her camera that were as interested in her as she seemed to be with her photographs.

A couple of people were already asking Granny about her, as she was the biggest gossip in town and usually knew everything that happened in town as well as Regina and Gold. While Belle skipped around town, pointing her camera at anything that looked remotely worth, the rest of the people were wondering who the girl of the white headband was.

"She looks to young to be a journalist," "Too little makeup to be looking for a job," "Decidedly odd that she hasn't spoken with anybody yet," "Do you think she's visiting a relative?", "Maybe she's just passing through" were some of the whispers floating around Granny's, until the waitress could not take it anymore and just walked down the street towards the mystery girl.

"Hey, you might want to point that away from Leroy if you know what's good for you," she said, startling Belle with a yelp. The blue eyed brunette turned around, and saw a black-haired girl with red streaks in her hair wearing a short skirt and a white blouse that showed her midriff, with a white apron.

"Heavens, you startled me," she mumbled apologetically. "Is that his name?" Belle looked again at the very drunk man that was being hauled off a placed called "The Rabbit Hole", which she supposed was a bar. "He does have good profile lines when you look at him from this angle, you know?" she said, standing on her tiptoes and twisting her body just to get the right angle of Leroy's face.

"I think I just barfed in my mouth," Ruby, mumbled, surprised this girl had been this close to calling Leroy handsome. If she had, she wouldn't have known whether to laugh her ass off or refer her to Dr Hopper.

"Oh, sorry for brushing you off," Belle said, concentrating at the girl that had interrupted her. "I get quite distracted when I'm taking photographs," she said, shyly pointing at her camera and then extending her hand. "I'm Sophie, thanks for warning me."

"It didn't seem to make much of a difference with you," Ruby replied, eyeing her up and down and, like Emma, she thought that Sophie Reed did not seem intimidating at all. "I'm Ruby, by the way. My Granny owns the diner up the street."

"The old lady that keeps looking at people like she wants to bit their heads off?" Immediately, Belle clamped her hand over her mouth. Damn her and her stupid habit of asking the most inappropiate questions! Luckily, this made Ruby laugh.

"How did you know?" Ruby asked, and Belle touched her camera, making Ruby laugh some more. While her skimpy uniform and Belle's more modest outfit clearly indicated an abyss between their tastes, she decided she liked her. "She's not always like that, it's just that she's got this injury giving her trouble."

"And it makes her cranky?" Belle guessed.

"Yes. That, and the fact that the rent is due today."

"Ouch," Belle winced, knowing from experience that rent made people very, very pissy. Emma and her usually got really on edge when their landlords did the hokey pokey at the end of the month. "I can understand why she wants to bite heads off."

"Familiar with the woes of not paying in time?"

"I've lived in a couple of places," Belle replied with an amusing laugh as she walked with Ruby towards her car.

"So, one question I want to ask," Ruby said, cutting to the chase. "Why are you here? I mean, not that I don't love my town, but I don't think we are exactly tourist material, if you know what I mean."

The brunette let out a snort. "Really? Wouldn't have guessed for the world." Belle decided she liked Ruby, not that they could be friends or anything, because if Emma had her way they would be running back to Boston before the afternoon, but why not indulge in a bit of gossip? "My sister and I came here on an errand, actually."

"You have a sister?" Ruby asked, trying without success to cover her shock. Not one, but two newcomers in Storybrooke! She could not wait to tell Ashley about this. "Where is she?"

"Delivering her son back to his adoptive mother," Belle said, shrugging.

"Her son? Crap, you don't me to tell me that your sister is Henry's mother," Ruby's black eyes widened.

"He must be quite famous." Judging by the way Ruby immediately knew who she was talking about, Belle mused that Henry was the only adopted child in the entire town.

"Trust me, he is. Apart from being Regina's only child, which by itself is a horrible cross to carry I wouldn't wish on anyone, he's kind of a little odd, you know."

"Odd?" That interested Belle. "How?"

"Well, he's never had any friends, he's always been to withdrawn. And recently he has taken to carry that huge story book of his, trying to convince people to read it. Poor kid, must be lonely in that mansion," Ruby said.

"No wonder he tracked my sister down. He's such a sweet boy," Belle felt a little kinship with Henry: deep down, she could almost remember what it felt to be a child locked away without anybody to play with, only books for company. Almost, but not quite entirely. "Oh, now that I mention it, she was supposed to call me about half an hour ago." She looked at her phone, but there were no missing calls.

"If your sister got on Regina's bad side, you might have to wait a while," Ruby supplied. "Madam Mayor is known to be quite... harsh." Ruby actually wanted to use some stronger expletives, but she saw no need to scare Sophie away.

"Maybe I should go look for her. Lord knows my sister has a temper when she is provoked," Belle said, her mind running through scenarios where Emma and the mayor butted heads over what was best for Henry, and none of them were pretty. "How do I get to the Mayor's place from here?"

"Go straight up this road, then turn right at the fork between Toffee Street and Stanberry Road, then up ahead until Mifflin Street," the waitress said. "It's a big, Barbie-like Victorian house that makes all others there look like cheap condos, so it's impossible to miss." She smiled at her own joke.

"Thank you so much for your help, Ruby. Oh, stand right there!" Belle said, taking a photograph as the sun hit Ruby's red highlights, making them shine. "This one will look beautiful, you have great natural sunlight!"

Ruby looked at the odd girl before her and shrugged. "It's Maine, call it a perk of the lucky ones." Then, she looked up the street and sighed. "Gotta run, that's Granny over there, telling me my break is over. It was nice to meet you, Sophie."

"Same here. Maybe I'll stop by later for lunch or something, if I can drag my sister along."

"She sounds like a cool person."

"She is, when she is not stubborn as a mule."

Ruby laughed. "See ya, then." Belle nodded and got in her car, while Ruby returned to the diner and started to spread the news to the whole town.

Following Ruby's directions was surprisingly easy. Just a couple of turns, and soon enough she was in a street where all the houses looked older than a century. Ruby had not been kidding, all the houses looked like doll mansions, all manicured and well painted. She wondered who they belonged to... or if those lavish places belonged to someone at all. Because, even if the neighborhood was pretty, she had yet to see people on the street that were not gardeners or maids.

It was during the daydreams that she started looking for the Mayor's house, ignoring the fact that Emma had been trying to call her for a while now, after having a blow off with Regina, as her cell was in silent mode.

Then, she noticed the blinking red light in her cell. A text from Emma. And, as one of those careless moments that normal people usually have that end up costing them, Belle picked up her phone to read the text... and took her eyes off the road.

Before she could answer to Emma's MEET ME AT THE CLOCK TOWER G2G, Belle heard a terrifying screech coming from the front of her car and she hit the brakes, now seeing that the empty street before her was not so empty anymore, because a black Hudson Hornet had been backing off the driveway right in front of one of the mansions. And she had almost smashed right into it.

"Oh, crap, I'm so dead," she mumbled, her heart hammering in her chest. This was bad, awful. She did not text and drive, and neither did she total other people's cars (OK, she had only given the other car a dent, but still), that was usually Emma on a bad day. Not her. She was a model citizen.

Belle took a deep frantic breath and got out of her car. "Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry, are you OK?" she said, running over the driver sid of the black car. Her Mercedes sported the worst part of the damage, but Belle had a feeling the owner of the black car would call it comeuppance.

"Yes, as it appears," a very angry voice said from the car. "I'm all right, although I'm sure that once your licence is revoked I'll be better, thank you." The man sounded really angry, and she knew he was in his right to be, but her usual kind nature prevailed over everything, even as her headache began pounding her head even more. There was something about the accent that was.. familiar.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't know you were coming out of the house, I just took my eyes off the road for one second."

"Well, sorry will not cover it, I'm afraid," the man said, still angry, as he got out of the car.

"Oh my gosh, I crippled you," she said, taking her hands to her face scared when she saw he used a cane. The man before her was lean, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than her and Emma's paychecks, combined, but his face, it was so familiar... if her head hadn't been about to burst in pain she might be able to know, because her instinct told her she knew those eyes, but from where?

"No, you did not," the man replied smoothly, although his words held a threat, as if daring her to contradict him. "This is an old injury, unlike what my car has suffered at your hands," he said, more interested in the dent she had made to her car than in her. "I hope you are not really attached to your licence, because you will lose it before the day is over if I have my way." Only after he surveyed the damage (which was not really much, but he was not going to tell her that) he turned to the babbling woman that had dared to ruin his perfectly good rent-collecting day. But once Mr Gold saw the woman's face, he felt as though something small had stabbed him in the chest.

"I'm really sorry, I don't know what happened, gosh I almost totaled your car," Belle kept rambling with nervousness, fidgeting with her hands as she tried to apologize.

Gold just stared at her. He knew that face: the blue eyes, pale features, brown hair... where had he seen this girl that reminded him so much of something? Perhaps, he mused, it was her carelessness, but she was acting as though she had crashed right into him instead of making a simple dent. Afraid? No, no, he had the feeling the girl was not afraid, just regretful. He knew she was not a local, that much he was sure, but where did he know her from? Maybe it was the way she kept apologizing over something so small. It reminded him of that old chipped cup in one of his cupboards, something so small and making a big deal out of it.

"I am sorry, miss, but have we met?" The man asked her, voicing the question she herself had at the tip of her tongue. Belle surveyed his face, trying to place it. She had seen him somewhere, but she was unsure. As a rule, Belle never forgot a face. It came with not having much memory in her system, she was good at remembering the things she did remember.

"Not that I remember," she said, shaking her head.

"Care to supply a name, then?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Belle babbled again. "I'm Sophie, Sophie Reed, I'm so sorry about your car, but please don't have my licence revoked, I live in Boston and moving without a car would be hell on earth, I'll pay for the repairs, I promise, anything you want, Mister..."

"Gold, the name is Mr Gold, Miss Reed. And a piece of advice for the future?" He chuckled under his breath. "Never promise anything to the devil."

Belle closed her eyes and sighed. Maybe she should take her chances with walking forever.

**AN: if you are wondering why I keep mentioning what Belle was wearing, it's because I'm obsessed with clothes. Also, her outfit is up there in the story cover, sweet but not really as intimidating as Emma's red leather jacket. My dream car is a Mercedes, and the idea of Belle being into photography is because she has an eye for inner beauty, so I thought "Why not give her that as a hobby? She's good at that too." And yes, I was watching Cars with my baby brothers the other day, hence the model of Gold's car. I don't actually know if I got it right, but it looked close enough. Also, I so wanted to have this scene mirror to the one in "Skin Deep", with the chipped cup analogy and all that. It actually didn't come out the way I wanted, but I figured that Jefferson did warn Belle about her and her true love not knowing each other. I imagine Inner Belle is the one banging her hands against the glass in Sophie's nightmares... I also wanted to note that Gold has yet to meet Emma, so let us all give a minute of silence to remember that Gold, without his memories of Rumplestiltskin, becomes just a average hateful lawyer and landlord with too much time in his hands who that likes to make people miserable with rent raises. Next chapter will be some Emma, some Belle and maybe some Henry... care to be as curious as I am? Well, yes of course!.**

**One question, do you guys think this scene would have been better if I had taken Mr Gold out of character (cool and collected) and had him get all really pissed at Belle for the dent in his car? I hope you comment, it really makes my day.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to Milarqui for his invaluable help with correcting my grammatical horrors, this chapter has been revised by him, (I think you deserve a medal for what you did), so here we go.**

**Old A/N: Hi guys! I'm back home and ready to roll! Spring semester is, well... spring semester. Anyway, back to our story, I have absolutely no idea where it's going, per usual, so today I'll just wing it and try to be pseudo-inspired. Thanks to all those who wished me happy birthday! And even when my new laptop has yet to arrive (dad says maybe next week) your reviews give me joy and writing helps with my stress levels (college and all that), so I'll continue on until I figure a way to end the curse and the fic painlessly for all parties involved…**

DISCLAIMER: **Don't judge the writer by the grammar, and I don't own OUAT. If I did, most of the things that have happened in season two would have been cut from the script.**

**Chapter 6: First impressions lie… all the time **

"Please, Mr Gold, I promise I'll pay you back," Belle continued, even as her headache got worse and her cellphone wouldn't stop buzzing.

"Miss Reed, I don't think you understand, this car is a _very_ rare model." The man raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down, and Belle suddenly felt as though he had judged her to be the dirt under his shoe, so she bravely squared her shoulders. "Even a dent as insignificant as this one is going to cost quite a sum." He mentally did the calculation and tried not to smile anticipating her next question.

"How much?" Belle asked, giving him a look that spoke of a person who had had to stand up for herself a lot during her life. Emma was still calling her, and her confusion and headache only seemed to make it worse. _Screw civility, this man doesn't deserve it_, she though. "I'll pay it," she said, looking at him right in the eye, just like Emma had taught her, trying her best to show him she was not intimidated.

Mr Gold tried not to be impressed at her tone. Not everybody in his world had the will to talk to him like that. Not even Regina, the closest thing he had to a "natural enemy", never even dared to stare at him square on as this girl was doing. People in Storybrooke knew their boundaries, and in one day this newcomer had managed to both impress and irritate him. Plus, there was that annoying feeling of knowing her that kept nagging him. Swatting it away like a nasty bug, he smiled (a smile that Belle considered rather creepy) and named a pretty big sum that he calculated would empty the brunette's savings account. "So, you see, it's not the kind of repair work one can easily afford."

He had clearly meant that comment as a jab to her pride, but she still could not suppress a shudder. That kind of money was more or less what she earned in three months. And that was working two jobs. "It's a car, there's no way repairing that dent can cost so much," she said, hoping he would reduce the sum.

"Well, then I suppose I could let you pay just half of the sum, but, then, of course, that would come at a price." Mr Gold would never admit how much he was enjoying this, but he actually was. Miss Reed's face scrunch up and narrow her eyes was probably the funniest thing he had ever seen: the woman was like a kitten completely unaware that she was facing a very dangerous dragon.

"You want my licence, don't you?" Belle muttered on edge. _Where is the bottle of painkillers?_ she thought. She could see the creepy smile relax into a (nice) satisfied smirk: he had her, and she knew it. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and then another, trying to imagine herself in a Starbucks having a big cup of tea as she tried not to snap at the man in front of her. And, when that did not work, she imagined herself in Quebec.

Yes, Quebec. As far away from her current position as possible. Nice wintery Quebec, where she had planned to drag Emma this Christmas. To take pictures of the Château de Frontenac, and bask in the city's cultural perfection. Putting her palms together in front of her face, and lowering them down in a God-give-me-strength motion, Belle opened her eyes. "Do I have to pay you now?" she asked in an even voice.

Mr Gold observed her, still amused. There she was, calmly keeping her composture when he had all but told her that her small mistake would either cost her all of her savings, or half of them and her driving licence. He had expected her to snap, shout, cry, at least betray some hint of unhappiness, but instead this strange woman had taken what he said in stride and keeping herself calm. "No," he answered. "After all, I don't suppose you have that kind of money in your person right now."

"Oh, well." Her phone kept buzzing in her pocket, and she picked it up. She already had fourteen missing calls. "Would you mind holding on for a sec? I need to take this call." She held up her index finger before he could put a word in, even if she knew it was quite rude, because right now she could figure that Emma was probably fuming. Mr Gold raised an eyebrow but did not reply, watching her with an almost scientific scrutiny. Belle thanked him with her eyes and stepped away for a bit.

"Damnit, Belle, finally. Where the hell were you? I've been trying to reach you for hours?" Emma's annoyance could be heard from miles away.

"Hi to you too, oh massive exaggerator," Belle replied, snorting. Her uneasy posture immediately relaxed at the sound of her friend's voice. "Why have you been calling like crazy? Is Henry OK?"

"Henry? Yes, he is fine. I think so, at least. And second of all, it's you who should be answering some questions. Why weren't you answering your phone?"

"Long story," Belle said, trying not to go into details. "Where are you? It sounds like somebody's there with you?"

"Just the sheriff. I am... well, I got into just a little bit of trouble."

"Emma!" Belle scolded her. "What the hell happened? Spill, now."

"Short version? I took the kid home, met his bitch of a mother, then decided to head back after waiting for you for a lot of time, but crashed into the town's sign because apparently one glass of apple cider is too much even though I saw a wolf in the middle of the road, got thrown into jail by the sheriff but now I'm out because the kid is missing and I can help find him," Emma explained in a flurry of words.

"Who's that?" she heard a faint voice with an Irish accent ask from Emma's side of the line.

"Just B... my sister, she came with me to drop off Henry this morning," Emma replied to whomever she was with. Through the faint static, Belle could hear that a conversation was going on between Emma and the other person. A minute later Emma returned to the phone. "By the way, where are you? I need your help over here."

"I might have got into a little trouble with the law too," Belle admitted, narrowing her eyes when she heard Emma chuckle. "I'll tell you when we meet up, don't think I have forgotten you had ditched me her just a few hours ago."

"I sent you a ton of texts and called loads of times. You were the one that didn't answer," Emma said, pretending to be annoyed. "But really? You, in trouble with the law? I'd love to see that happening." Emma let out an unladylike snort. "The closest thing you've ever come to seeing the jail bars from the inside was when you got that speeding ticket in Sacramento, and even then they let you off without a wink two days later."

"Yeah, I know. Sucks to be a model citizen, right?" Belle laughed. Trust Emma to make her relax now.

"Who's overexaggerating now? But now, seriously, I need a little help of your nerdy skills."

"Nerdy skills?"

"As I told you, the kid..."

"Henry," she corrected.

"Henry," Emma amended reluctantly. "He's not at home, or school or anything. Right now, we are looking for him, but I thought, since you are here already, and you have experience with... you know, kids like Henry."

"Geeky kids," Belle probed. "Is that what you meant?"

"Not exactly, I meant that you work in a library, and Henry reads a lot, maybe you would have an idea of where to find him."

"I think I do." Belle was a great judge of character, and she had a fairly good idea of where Henry must have gone. "Alright, I'll help you look for him, but this conversation isn't over, Emma."

"Same to you, I'm not the only one who needs to fess up."

"Where are you now?" Belle asked, ignoring the question.

"Henry's elementary school. Can you believe he swiped his poor teacher's credit card?" Belle could feel Emma rolling her eyes. "Right now, Sheriff Graham's talking to her before Regina has a chance to jump her throat."

"Sounds like a nice woman," Belle let out a chuckle. "Better watch out, I have a feeling your son is too smart for your piece of mind, the little cutie."

"Why don't I feel inclined to disagree?" Emma sighed. "Give me a call if you find him."

"I will. See you later." The line went dead.

Belle had known immediately where Henry was even before Emma asked her for help. After all, she had not spent the whole morning driving around town with her camera for nothing.

Henry was a very sweet boy. She doubted he would really run away, and it hurt her that Emma was too confused to see he would never do anything to get her in trouble. He was lonely, she had learned that much from their conversation the previous night, and he wanted to feel love and protected. Belle knew there were few places a child like him would feel safe in if he wanted to be away from his "evil" mother.

Putting herself in his shoes, she imagined herself being ten and wanting to give someone a big scare. She would probably have snuck in the abandoned clock tower, or camped out in the forest with teddy bears, Belle admitted to herself. Henry was no little girl, though, and little boys did not hide in the same places girls did, so naturally Belle thought of the deserted playground by the bay, the one she had taken her time to capture perfectly in her camera.

If her theory was right, that was where Henry would go. It fit Henry's idea of a fairytale, and it would make him feel as if he had his own fortress. Yes, that was where Henry would go.

Making up her mind, Belle returned to the problem at hand, walking back to where Mr Gold was still standing, tapping his foot impatiently. "I'm sorry, Mr Gold, that was my sister on the phone."

"Sister? So... interesting," he replied sarcastically, letting Belle know he was not really interested in her personal problems. "Shall we continue with our discussion, then?"

"Yes, you were about to tell me when I could pay you." Her accent - Australian, according to Emma, which had held on even after six years of hearing nothing but American accents - made her words sound a little more stuttering than she intended, and she had to suppress the urge to say it again just to hear herself speak more smoothly.

"The thing is I can't drive with that dent in my car, Miss Reed, and despite what it may seem, I am a busy man," Mr Gold explained. "I'm afraid to say that the sooner I send it to be repaired the better, which means that the sooner you pay me the sooner you'll be rid of me." He smiled, again that creepy smile that showed all of his teeth and made Belle wonder if he was expecting her to run and hide. "How does tomorrow sound?"

"Tomorrow?" Belle gasped. "That's too soon. How the heck am I supposed to get so much money by tomorrow?" _Think in Quebec, Sophie, think in Quebec_. A Quebec that she, sadly, would never go to, because the money she had saved for the trip was going to be drained.

"Banks exist everywhere, I am told," Mr Gold said, relaxing against his cane, "And so do ATMs." At last, he had got a reaction out of her. He did not know why, and he found it oddly dissatisfying, but she was very intriguing, even when she was closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, clearly unsettled. He could see her fighting to keep her composture, but never did the woman actually lose it. She kept her head high, not with prid, but with something akin to self worth. He was impressed. He had the upper hand over her and she knew it, yet Miss Reed was keeping her calm and collected.

What was it about her eyes that made him want to take back everything he said? He swatted the thought away again. He did not know this young woman, and she did not know him, so why the sudden urge of strange conflicting thoughts, then?

Belle clenched her fists, the only outer sign of her discomfort. "I'll have it all by tomorrow's afternoon," she said, while she also said goodbye in her mind to the Christmas in the Château de Frontenac. Maybe it might be for the best, she probably neede to stay away from ancient castles after all of this debacle with Henry and Emma.

"I look forward to receiving your call, but please make sure it's in cash," he smirked. "I have experience with bounced checks, and let me tell you that crossing me," he stepped away from her and motioned to his car, "is not a pleasant experience at all.

"You have my word," Belle said, looking him in the eye, and when she said those words, the wave of dizzyness that affected them at the same time was so strong that it almost made her stumble. Her hand went immediately to her head, trying to wave off the migraine that had been building up. "Gosh, I need a painkiller," she muttered.

That prevented her from seeing how Mr Gold looked at her. Those words... he had heard them before. Once again, he felt as though she had given him her word about something, in some other place, some other time perhaps? That was ridiculous, he reasoned. He had just met her. His memory did not lie.

Recovering from her dizzy spell, Belle sighed. "I'll have it in cash, then."

"Good. I own a small business downtown, it's where I prefer to conduct this type of matters. This is the address." He handed her a card emblazoned with a seal and fine print, a clearly expensive card. "I expect to see you there before the sun goes down."

"I'll be there." Belle did not cower at his hidden threat. Instead, she smiled her most polite smile - that she was able of, at any rate - and nodded. "Goodbye, Mr Gold. It was nice to meet you, despite everything." She got into her car and drove away, leaving him without the last word. Again. It was quite impressive.

Mr Gold tried not to give it more thought. He had rent to collect today, and he could not affort to distract himself with thoughts of that strange defiant woman. Soon, she would come to learn about him from the people in town. He briefly wondered how Sophie Reed would react once she realized she had just faced "The Beast" of Storybrooke.

Inside her car, Belle was taking another two painkillers and trying not to fume. Why were not the painkillers doing their work? Her head was hurting more than a broken limb, and it did not seem to be receding any time soon.

Pushing the gas pedal, she sped up towards Henry's playground. She could not let herself think too much about this, or she would lose her temper, and she had already done that with Emma early in the morning. Then she looked at the card in her hand and grumbled.

"A pawn shop... _typical_."

**AN:**

**I know, very short chapter, and don't say I didn't warn you that I don't really know where the story is going**_**. This scene**_** just popped up in my head, and I suppose it belongs in the last chapter. *sigh* Now, I am not the kind of girl who believes in love at first sight. People need to get to know each other. This is why I don't have Mr Gold recognize Belle right away. I mean, how anticlimactic would that be? Remember, I'm operating under the assumption that Mr Gold really didn't remember anything about the curse or Emma before he literally heard the savior herself say her name, so even if he'd seen Emma's name listed as the Regina's kid's birth mother, he woudn't have known it was the right Emma. I mean, I've met lots of Emma's in my life, plus if Gold had known Emma was Snow's Emma from Henry's birth, wouldn't he at least have been a tiny bit curious about who the kid's father was? Knowing how Rumplestilskin likes to have his clutches really buried in other people's business, I think it's unlikely he'd just turned a blind eye to potential blackmail information. **

**Next chapter, I plan to have another meaningful talk with Henry, one that reveals how Emma and Belle have been spending their six years. Remember how Belle always wanted to travel? I wonder what she dreams about now that she's already done that?**

**Ps: Belle and I have now officially dubbed Sheriff Graham "Candyman" (I just think calling him "the Huntsman" and "Sheriff Skinny Jeans" is not sexy enough) why? I'll give you a hint: **_**Sweet, Sugar, Candyman**_**. The first person to guess where the "Candyman" reference comes from will get to pick the title for the next chapter, plus a nice two paragraph spoiler… again, sorry this chapter was short. I wrote it in the time I had between my Computer Science workshop and my Statistics class.**


	7. Chapter 7

**AND WE HAVE A WINNER! Congrats to SamFanFirst for succesfully guessing my Candyman reference, because, YES, I was referring to Cristina Aguilera's song Candyman! That reminds me too much of sexy Sheriff Skinny Jeans. To all those who guessed right, but didn't review, go check that song out. I can't post the lyrics here because it's got pretty dirty references and then I would have to deal with rating logistics and all that, so I leave it to you peeps, listen to the song. As our winner, SamFanFirst got a two paragraph long excerpt of today's chapter, and, as I promised, she also got to pick the title, so enjoy enjoy my friends.**

**This chapter is thrice as long as any other chapter in the story. Normally, I post no more than 4500 words, but today the count is 6400 words so I got one word: WOW.**

**DISCLAIMER: don't judge a writer by the grammar. I don't own OUAT. if I did it would air on fridays (meaning no hiatuses) and most of seccond season would have been cut from script. By the way, this chapter stretched out so much I was considering splitting it up in two, but as it is looking like I won't be writing much in a couple of days, and I want to post all in one gulp, here it is... the uncut version, no splitting up. Read and review please... **

Chapter seven: The History That Counts

Belle drove away from Mr Gold taking deep calming breaths, knowing that getting angry when she saw Henry wouldn't really help her conversation with the child. After all, it wasn't his fault that Storybrooke appeared to be the high point of a very annoying ride: the library was closed, there wasn't a mall in miles and she kept having these stupid migraines that refused to go away.

"There you are," Belle mumbled to herself in triumph as she saw the brown wooden structure in the distance. The old looking castle-like playground that looked more like a safety hazard than a place for a kid to be playing came closer and closer until, finally, Belle got off her car and began walking towards it.

It didn't take long to spot the kid, up in the "tower". He sat hunched, looking down at his book, so concentrated that he really didn't notice she was approaching untill Belle was leaning over his shoulder.

"You know you are going to resemble Quasimodo soon if you keep sitting like that," she said, startling Henry. The child looked up and smiled.

"Sophie!" Henry jumped and gave her a hug "I thought it was someone else."

"Let me guess, this ominous Regina I've been hearing about," Belle smirked but Henry shook his head.

"Actually, I was hoping Emma would come looking for me," he admitted, crestfallen.

"Sounds like your plan worked, she IS looking for you, in fact I'm supposed to call her if I find you first," Belle smiled, dangling her phone from her fingers, "but I want to talk to you first, so she's going to wait a bit." She sat in the steps of the castle and cocked her head to the side. "Now, tell me, why did you run away?"

Henry was wary. Belle was an adult and he had experience that most adults he knew were not to be trusted, but since he met her Belle had always been nice to him and even when she seemed wary about the curse she hadn't openly called him crazy, plus she liked books, so Henry decided he should trust her.

"I wanted to get away from the evil queen, you don't know how she's like Sophie," Henry turned away. "She's mean to everybody and she's a witch, I don't like her."

"Oh, sweetie." Belle was inclined to disagree, but what Ruby had told her earlier suddenly came back to her mind. _He's Regina's only child, which in by itself must be a terrible cross to carry_. "Is she really that horrible?"

"Yup," Henry said without hesitation. "She's evil, you know, big bad. Makes people miserable and feels happy about it," he said in a voice a little too old for his age. "Some people in town call her Lucifer, although I don't think she minds, as I said, she's a witch."

Belle decided that now was probably not the time to discuss Henry's adoptive mother with him: after all, she'd never even met the woman. Trying to find a way to change the subject without him noticing, Belle pointed to his book. "Why compare her to the Evil Queen? Why not... Maleficient? Or Ursula? Or I don't know, the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Because she's the one who cast the curse, so she's the only one supposed to be happy here, that's how I knew it was her," Henry explained, feeling pretty smart for his age, "but now Emma's here and she can break the curse."

Belle decided she was going to indulge him. Why not play along untill Emma got there? She'd already sent her a text ."Okay, so she's here. Now, why isn't the curse broken?"

"I don't know, that's what I've been trying to figure out," he said, flipping the pages of his book back and forth. "Here it says Emma is the only one who can break the curse, but the book doesn't say anything about how she can break it."

Belle saw he was serious. She'd seen kids obsessed over books before. Normally it was Harry Potter or Twilight, but as a librarian she'd learned it was healthier to understand where their obsession was coming from before finding ways to steer them back into the real world. Children like him often were looking for the understanding they lacked at home in their fantasies, so it was better if one provided said understanding, or at least that's what she had told the last mother who had come to her desk complaining her daughter was obsessed with the Cullen family. "Okay then, tell me about the curse. How does it work? Why doesn't anybody leave town? What happens if you do?"

"Well, I don't really know what happens. All I know is that, before people reach the town line, bad things happen: accidents, broken bones, crashes, that sort of thing."

"Really?" Belle's curiosity piked up. "Okay, bad things happen. What else apart from the whole not remebering their true identities?"

"It keeps people frozen in time," Henry pointed out, Belle snorted.

"So, your Evil Queen found the Philosopher's Stone and made everybody a vampire?" Belle joked.

"No, that's silly." Henry rolled his eyes, reminding Belle of Emma.

"Then, how exactly are people frozen in time, silly?" Belle replied in good humor.

"Well, it's like... time passes, but people don't change," Henry tried to explain the best he could. "At first, I didn't notice because I was too little, but then I started school and made friends, but it sucked because the friends I made in first grade didn't grow old, so in second grade I went to school with different kids, and that's when I started noticing something was wrong, because the kids I went to preschool with were still in preschool." Henry had not noticed how Belle had grown quiet, but it was the last part of what he said that made her skin grow cold. "I was the only one that grew up, and they stayed the same, not aging a day."

"Ever?" Belle gasped, her mind whirling and silently she looked at her hands. The same hands she had had since her accident six years before. Hands that, like her face, hadn't aged at all. "And only you noticed people didn't change?" she whispered, more to herself than Henry, remembering the odd looks Emma always gave her on her birthday. Emma, who was not twenty two any more, who had turned twenty eight the day before, who got sick with the flu, who had subtle wrinkles in her face, who, unlike her, actually felt time pass. Belle was struck with the horrible thought that, maybe, Henry's fantasies were not far from the truth, that maybe he was onto something.

"Sophie, Sophie?" Henry shook her. "What's wrong? You look as tough you saw a ghost," he asked.

_More like I became one_ Belle thought. "No, it's nothing, Henry. Come here, I want to show you something," she said, getting up and walking to the highest part of the playground castle, overlooking the sea in the distance. Henry followed her, and Belle carefully removed her headband, letting her brown locks be whipped by the wind over her face. Kneeling down she held half of her hair in place, and let the other half fall, feeling around in her head to where she knew was the only physical evidience of her accident.

Right in the back of her head, hidden under a massive portion of well cared hair, was a jagged scar in the shape of a L. "See this?" she said, pointing to the scar.

"Yeah?" Henry said, puzzled. "Why are you showing me a scar?" Belle let her hair fall back into place and put on her headband.

"I had an accident," Belle whispered, refusing to look at Henry, "about six months before I met your mom." Henry did not make a sound. "I spent three months in a coma, and when I finally woke up, I didn't know who I was."

Henry was looking at her, engrossed in what she was saying. "Not even your name?"

"Not even my name," Belle agreed. She felt a strange eerie feeling confiding in Henry. It was the first time in a long time that she had ever told anybody the truth about where she came from. "The doctors said I was found in the side of a road near Chicago by some hikers, badly bruised, and looking as though I'd fallen from one of the cliffs of the nearby mountains," she continued. "I hit my head pretty bad from the fall, or that's what the doctors said." Belle looked anywhere but at Henry. "Something, probably a rock, hit me in the head when I fell and made me that scar."

"Is that how you met my mom?" Henry coaxed. "Did you regain your memory after you woke up?"

"No," Belle shook her head. "The accident made sure that my memory of everything that had happened before it was gone permanently," she confided in the young boy. "Nobody has been able to figure out why. According to all the doctors I've seen, my brain is in perfect working order, no temporal lobe damage, no frontal lobe damage. In fact, apart from that scar, there's nothing wrong with my head."

"Then I don't understand," Henry said at last.

"Me neither," Belle smiled in resignation and looked ahead, leaning on the wooden rail while facing the sea.

Henry coud not find words to explain the theory that was forming up in his mind. He had his suspicions about Sophie being able to help with the curse, but how could he tell her? No, better let her speak first. Then, he could convince her to join forces with him. She had told him to take baby steps, right? "Then, what happened?"

Belle snapped out of her funk and decided to get to the part he wanted to hear. "Then I began to recover in the hospital, got a new name and met your mom shortly after I'd been released." As predicted, Henry's ears perked up. "Your mom was a troublemaker nobody wanted to room with, and I didn't even know my own last name, so naturally nobody wanted to room with me either. Needless to say, we bonded over that."

"So you've been her best friend ever since?" Henry asked happily. Belle nodded. "Cool. What was it like? Was she a good roommate? Or a bad one? Did she snore? Did YOU snore? Were you friends right from the start? Did you fight over the bathroom? Was my mom a good cook? Or, wait, don't answer that, she gave me a pop tart last night," Henry began shooting one question after another, making Belle laugh and forget entirely the point she'd been trying to make earlier. Telling him she didn't age could wait. Right now, the kid wanted to know about his mom.

"Well, let's see." Belle thought for a moment. "In the beginning, your mom was the crappiest roommate ever. She'd just gotten the bail bondsperson job and wasn't used to living with anybody. Plus, I made it worse, considering I was just learning to live in the real world all over again, and she constantly had to teach me things I didn't know and no, your mother doesn't snore and I'm pretty sure I don't either." She racked her brain for answers to the rest of Henry's questions "She hated me a bit, because I asked too many questions when we met, and she called me annoying brat, but didn't have the heart to kick me out." Belle laughed remembering somethig else. "Two months later, Emma decided she'd had enough of Chicago, and when she was packing to leave, I asked her if I could come along."

"Why?" Henry asked, as curious as ever. "Didn't you have other friends?"

"I did, but I don't know, back then I wanted to leave Chicago too, and Emma wasn't like everybody else, who had pity on me because I'd been in the hospital. She treated me like a real person, and I admit I envied her way of life a little bit. She was so strong, so independent, and had this vive of not needing anybody, so I decided, why not take a risk and try something new? So, no, we didn't become friends right away, and yes, we had our fights over the bathroom and still do in hindsight." Belle chuckled. "I think it was after we moved from Chicago to a little apartment in Denver, that we became friends." Belle chose to spare Henry the unsavory details of the troubles they both got into while they where looking for apartments and changed the subject. "And yes, your mother is a terrible cook. When it comes to house duties, I do the cooking and the laundry, she does the cleaning and grocery shopping, then we split the rent and cable bill depending on how much it costs." Satisfied, Belle grinned. "That way, I don't get food poisoning every two weeks and your mom is spared the trouble of spending five hours a week in the laundry."

"It doesn't sound like I imagined it to be," Henry admitted, disappointed. "I thought you guys..." he trailed off, embarrassed.

"What, you thought your mother and I spent our days singing and dancing while wood creatures did the housework and ate berry pie every afternoon?" Belle raised an eyebrow watching Henry hang his head in shame, confirming he had been thinking along those lines. "Sorry to disappoint, but reality does tend to fall short on fantasy most of the time."

"But, come on, you can't tell me you both don't at least have happy moments. I saw your apartment, it didn't look like a place where two strangers lived," Henry pointed out. Emma and Sophie's apartment in Boston had been very homey when he had visited, with framed pictures of the two women in the walls and yellow lace curtains. The walls had been painted a warm green, and there were books stacked in the corner of the living room along with a pile of DVDs. It was a small apartment, but Henry had the feeling of being welcomed home when he was inside. "It was warm, you know."

"Thank you, I spent two weeks redecorating," Belle informed him with a smug smile, which the young boy returned. "You know, just because something isn't as you imagined it to be, doesn't mean reality isn't just as good." She ruffled his hair with love. "Ems might not have liked me at first, but we still ended up being best friends, and we've had lots of adventures ever since," she finished.

"Like what?" Henry perked up at the sound of the word "adventure".

"Well, we've gone to lots of places," Belle tried to skim her head for things they had done that were appropriate for a ten-year-old. "It's been like that for years, we move a lot," she smiled, "and we've done lots of crazy things in these six years, believe me, she even let me dye her hair brown once."

Henry snorted. "I don't think Emma would ever let you touch her hair." He knew Emma, she was too tough. He briefly imagined Belle holding a dye box and pointing at Emma as though she were holding a gun.

"You don't believe me, huh? Look here," Belle opened her wallet and showed Henry a picture of her and Emma shopping at Barney's, only in the picture Emma was brunette and Belle was blond. They were both laughing and there was a store clerk looking at them with a puzzled frown on his face.

"Emma wanted to have a new start in Pennsylvania, so I convinced her to trade hair colors." Belle laughed remembering that day: they'd been laughing so hard at some random thing in the mall and the store clerk's wife had snapped a picture of his puzzled face. Emma and Belle had laughed even more and asked to have a copy. "ahh Pennsylvania, good ole Penn."

"She looks so different, wow." Henry then noticed another couple of pictures in Belle's wallet. "And those?"

"Those are mementos, a couple of pictures Emma doesn't know I keep there," Belle whispered conspiratorially. "So keep the secret okay?"

Henry nodded, pointing at one with Emma and Belle both dressed head to toe in black protective gear, twin ponytails swishing, army googles and weaponry belts on their waists, standing back to back each holding big shiny black guns. "Cool, where was THAT?"

Belle snorted. "That was in Washington. You can say whatever you want about politicians, but one thing's for sure, they certainly provide the marines with THE best paintball facilities." Then she sobered up trying not to crack a smile. "For training of course."

Henry snorted too. "You went to this year's Comic Con?!" he gasped, grabbing the last picture from the bottom of the wallet. Belle and Emma were, effectively, at Boston's recent Comic Con. Belle was apparently cosplaying as someone Henry did not recognize at first, dressed in the usual black protective gear from head to toe, only it was also yellow in the middle and something akin to a purple dragon on her shoulder, but then it clicked. "Awesome, you dressed up as Kitty Pryde from X-men," he cried, almost jumping in his seat. At her side, Emma (looking pretty much like she wanted to kill someone) was simply dressed entirely in white, starch-blinding white, a zipped up white leather jacket, white pants, and matching shoes, the only thing in her outfit not white was the silver buckle of her belt. "Who's my mom supposed to be?"

"Emma Frost, X-Men First Class." Belle began to laugh. "She wanted to kill me for dragging her into it this year." She coudn't stop sniggering as she looked at the picture. "If it weren't for the fact one of the felons she was chasing was rumored to be there, I swear your mother would have bailed out right then." Belle had tried, and failed, to get Emma to wear a princess dress that year, so she'd given up that day and resigned to going as Emma Frost and Kitty Pryde.

"You guys look awesome."

"Too bad your mom made a quick exit as soon as she'd gotten the bad guy she was chasing. Oh, look here," she pointed to another photo. This one was of Emma alone: she was sitting against a beautiful orange rocky backdrop. "This was at the Great Canyon four years ago, and I was the one who didn't want to go."

"My mom looks younger, she's so beautiful." Henry's eyes widened. "Can I keep that?"

"Sure, kid." Belle shrugged, inadvertently sounding like Emma. Both Henry and her giggled. "You are going to love this one." She opened the back of her wallet and pulled out her favorite picture: It was Emma and her, a lot younger, hugging happily looking at the camera. There was a banner behind them that read HAPPY NEW YEAR, Emma was dressed in a white feathery cocktail dress with a white crown, and Belle was wearing a similar blue dress with princess sleeves, minus the crown. Belle watched Henry's eyes widen.

"You look like princesses."

"Remember how I told you I liked fairytales?" Henry nodded. "Well, that year I was going through a "phase", if you can call it some way, and we got invited to this glitzy New Year's Eve party in the Space Needle by one of Emma's bosses." Belle refused to tell Henry they only got invited because Emma had chased a felon twice her size down a ghetto neigborhood, and her boss felt bad she had almost been killed by said felon's car. "It was a costume party, and both of us had the dresses, so we got two masks and went. Pretty cool huh?"

"Can I keep that one too?" Henry pleaded but Belle shook her head.

"Your mother doesn't know I have evidence of that day, and I'd like to keep it that way." She also didn't tell the kid that it had been after that same party that she had got drunk and done a couple of shameful things that had both earned her the nickname of "Belle" and made her swear off champagne for the rest of her life.

"If I promise not to tell her?" the ten year old pouted. His mom really looked like Snow White's daughter in that picture, so he tried his best at being persuasive. "Please."

"Fine, I'll get you a copy, but only if you promise not show your mom." Lest Emma remember that video she had and decide to show Henry exactly why Belle no longer read fairytales for fun.

"Do you have more pictures like this one?" Henry jumped eagerly in his seat. Belle winked.

"I might have an album or two," she taunted. "Let's make a deal: you promise that you won't pull stunts like this on Emma or... Regina, ever again, and I promise I'll show you all the pictures you want."

"Deal," he said, smiling. Then Henry was silent, eagerly putting away the small picture of young Emma that Belle had given him. Belle got up and dusted herself, watching the waves in the distance, suddely remebering there was something she intended to tell Henry before she'd gone on and on about how she met Emma.

"Henry why didn't you tell your friends in school that they didn't grow up? Didn't they notice something wrong?" she asked him, breaking the silence.

"I have, but it's no use, people don't believe me. The curse makes them think I'm loony," he harrumphed, "or the Queen makes them think I'm loony, but it doesn't matter, because they never listen to me."

"Hey I'm listening to you. And I believe you, at least, sort of."

"You do?" Henry watched Belle. Maybe he would not have to try so hard to convince her to help.

"I want to tell you something, but you can't tell anybody, okay?" Henry nodded. "There's another reason why Emma and I move from place to place a lot. It's because I am a little... peculiar," she whispered, coming closer and looking to the sides.

"What do you do?" Henry whispered in the same way as her, and Belle resisted the urge to giggle.

"I don't get old either," she whispered, "and Emma is the only one who notices."

"YOU WHAT?" Henry shouted, but before Belle could explain futher they saw the familiar flash of yellow in the distance. Emma was coming.

"Look, Henry, Emma will kill me if she finds out I told you about my... condition. Talk to her today, okay? But try not to mention the curse too much." Belle waved at Emma as she watched the blonde get out of the car and walk in their direction. "I'm not sure I believe it all, but I think you might be right about a couple of things."

"So, you will help me convince her to break it? Think about it Sophie. What if you belong here? What if your memories were wiped out because you are from the fairy tale land? It makes sense that Emma found you," Henry gushed.

"No, it doesn't, and that's what going to freak her out. Henry, please," Belle pleaded. He did not understand. He was referring to a whole forgotten lifetime. Belle had a open mind and even she was wishing this was not true. "Try not to scare her away."

"Fine, but you have to help me convince her to stay in Storybrooke."

"We'll make sure of that," Belle said with confidence. "If you talk her into it and I talk her into it, she doesn't stand a chance."

"So, a team?" Henry asked, offering his hand to Belle.

"A team." Belle shook his hand. "I'll try to ease her into the idea of the curse today." Belle could not believe she was teaming up with a ten year old boy to break a nonexistent curse, but then again she was supposed to be in her forties by now and still looked the part of her late twenties.

"And I'll keep looking in the book to see how the curse is supposed to be broken." Henry nodded.

Emma was with them a few moments later. Belle winked at Henry and told Emma she would leave them alone to talk, her mind whirling with possibilities...

* * *

"So? Are we staying?" Belle asked two hours later, sipping warm tea from a styrofoam cup after Emma had driven Henry back to the Mayor's house.

"You know me too well. I can't leave the kid alone with that witch." Emma sighed in resignation, taking the cup Belle was offering. She prefered hot chocolate with cinnamon, but given how much Belle liked to either make tea or buy it, even Emma had to admit she'd gotten used to the taste. "He's so sweet and nice, and you should have seen the look she gave him when I dropped him off, like if she were more concerned with kicking me out than his safety."

"He says she is evil. Ever thought that, maybe he's not just being a spoiled child? Maybe she does make him unhappy." Then she smiled. "So what are you going to do? You met the woman, you can't say he lied."

"I'm going to stay. I might have given him away but I can't leave now, not because of his fairytale world, not because of his mother. I gave him up once, I'm not doing it again."

"Good for you, I knew you'd do the right thing," Belle cheered, bumping her shoulder with Emma's. Emma felt a little underserving, Belle believed in her and she'd been this close to running away. "But then again, you would have been forced to stay either way."

"Why?" Emma asked. Belle's eyes fell. "This has something to do with what you told me on the phone, right?" she said, narrowing her eyes.

So Belle told her. She told her about photographing Leroy, about Ruby and how she had been reading Emma's text when she bumped a car, and how she would have to empty her bank account to pay for it before afternoon the day after, because she wasn't about to give up her driving licence.

"Oh, Belle" Emma groaned. "I take it this year's Christmas in Quebec is a no." Emma tried not to feel happy about it, she knew how hard Belle had been saving, but fairytale Canada was so not what either of them needed at the moment. "Don't worry, I'll help you pay for half okay."

"Ems, it's fine, you don't need to do that. I was the one who ignored what they said on TV about no texting and driving." Her shoulders fell.

"Hey, you've emptied your savings to help me more times than I can count," Emma said in an understanding voice. Belle was not used to being in trouble. Emma could sympathize, and knew her friend probably felt dejected. "It's the least I can do for all the times you've saved my ass."

"Thanks," Belle smiled.

"Now, come on, it's getting late. We better find somewhere to sleep, and perhaps to find something to eat."

"I saw an inn a couple of roads up when I was cruising town for pictures. A small bed and breakfast. What do you think?"

"Sounds great." Emma went to her car and Belle to hers.

Emma knew better than to question Belle's sense of direction. After all, Belle was the second best person she knew that was able to track someone with limited resources. Maybe her friend had been part of the FBI before her accident.

Sometimes Emma looked at her friend and wondered what she would do if Belle suddenly regained her memory. She had come to rely on her friendship so much in the past that Belle's memory became like a looming threat for her. What if she remembered her past and left? What would Emma do then? Of course, she knew that the Sophie that she had come to trust the past six years would never cut ties with her, no matter what memories she got back, but still it made her wary. Belle's past was unknown. What was it that lurked in the darkness of her friends's mind that didn't want to be uncovered?

Snapping out of it Emma saw Belle stop infront of a small inn and got out of her car too. "Come help me, will you?" her friend called out, smiling and motioning to her trunk.

"You brought my suitcase?" Emma scoffed, hauling up a small black roller case from Belle's trunk in disbelief. "Am I that predictable?" she asked, trying not to laugh. Of course Belle would know what Henry had been up to the moment he showed up in their doorstep. It was clear as the day. If only Emma had seen it too...

"No, I just know you too well," Belle joked as she took out a yellow suitcase identical to Emma's. "Let's go inside, it's been a long day."

Emma and Belle arrived to watch a rather ugly scene between Granny and Ruby. "I'm sorry that my heart attack interfered with your plans to sleep your way down the Eastern Seaboard!" Granny shouted.

"Yeah well I am, too," Ruby grunted, going for the door. "Oh, crap. Hi, Sophie," she said, suddenly noticing the newcomers. Great impression they were probably given.

"I take it this is your granny?" Belle laughed looking at the angry white haired woman.

"And I take it you guys came for a room?" Ruby replied, liking the brunnette's joking tone.

"Yes. If you have twin beds it would be great," Emma immediately turned to Granny, feeling very uncomfortable at having witnessed her fight with Ruby.

"Oh, of course, sorry for that. Um, twin beds," Granny mumbled, looking through her ledger. "Would you like a forest view or a square view? Normally, there's an upgrade fee for the square, but as the rent is due, I'll let it pass."

Emma looked at Belle with a questioning brow. "Forest or square? You pick." Belle shrugged.

"Square I think, I don't think a forest view is my thing."

"Square it is," Granny nodded. "Names?" she asked, just to be sure. Of course, Ruby had already filled her in on gossip after she talked to Sophie, but come to think of it, Sophie had mentioned her "sister", and Granny didn't actually know her name.

"Emma, Emma Swan, and Sophie Reed," Emma pointed to Belle at her side. Granny began scribling on her ledger.

"Emma... What a lovely name," a voice said from behind them, immediately putting Emma on guard. She could not put her finger on it, but the way her name was pronounced made a chill go up her spine.

Turning around, Emma immediately took a step forward, subtly shielding Belle in a involuntary protective motion. "Um, thank you, I guess." she said. Belle, who was shorter, peeked from behind her, looking at her friend with a quizzical brow.

"Ems, something wrong?" she asked. Then, she caught sight of Mr Gold, who was looking at her with wide eyes, really wide surprised eyes, unlike the cold calculating ones he had had when they first met. Gold narrowed her eyes at Sophie.

_Belle?_ Was it really her? The brown haired, blue eyed beauty that was standing behind the saviour, looking decidedly out of place, could it be? No, of course not, or could it?

In his head, a million of scenarios passed, most of them featuring a dead Regina. No wonder his cursed self had recognized her. In the future, Red would bear witness to many friends that there was a day when Mr Gold had gone paler than snow white.

Good thing was Granny had not noticed the odd way Mr Gold was looking at Sophie, because then she would have snapped. "It's all here," Granny said, waving a wad of cash, but still, Mr Gold was frozen. "Mr Gold, I said, I have the rent."

Lucky for him, the former Dark One had the good sense to snap out of it before anything happened. Calmly composing himself, he took the money, returning his face to a disinterested smirk. "Yes, yes, of course it you do, dear. Thank you."

Then Mr Gold did one of the hardest thing he had ever done since the curse had taken them to Storybrooke. He smiled and continued on as if nothing ever happened. "Enjoy your stay, Miss Swan," he said with a calm he didn't feel, "and you too Miss Reed." He looked directly into her eyes and once again, before she could question how she knew him, Belle's headache returned, and he left.

"Who was that?" Emma asked, rolling her eyes.

"That's the man who's car I almost crashed," Belle admitted with a defeated sigh.

"You mean, you were the one who made that bump into the side of Mr Gold's car?" Ruby gasped. "I'm sorry to say this, but you are so dead." The girl shook her head in pity.

"Why, is he a gangster or something?" Emma wondered.

"No, he owns this place, which is worse," Ruby clarified.

"You mean the inn?" Belle asked. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"No, she meant the whole town," Granny said, shuffling from behind the counter for the keys to their room.

"You know, I'm not religious or anything, but nobody ever messes with Mr Gold, so..." Ruby heaved her gaze to the ceiling and then looked at Belle. "May God have mercy on your soul."

"Ouch," Emma and Belle said at the same time, wincing.

"So, how long will you be staying?"

Belle looked at Emma for an answer. The latter just shrugged. "A while."

Granny smiled. "That's good, here, this is your key," she said, handing Emma the brass-decorated key to their room. "Welcome to Storybrooke."

"Thank you," Belle replied, turning away and following Emma.

* * *

That night, Emma and Belle unpacked and shared a small dinner in their room before Emma called it a night, knowing the next day would be hard. One of them ignorant of her future, the other ignorant of her past.

* * *

In the mayor's mansion, a young boy looked at the clock tower from his window, watching how 8:15 became 8:16 in the space of a minute, already making plans for the next day.

A man who had just learned his true love was alive, also looked out of his own window, wearing a smile not different from the young boy's. This one did not need to plan. After all, he just needed to find the answer to a small puzzle inside a puzzle. Nothing so complicated, he just needed to have a little more patience.

Somewhere else, a beautiful woman sat in the window, calmly reading and looking at the sky, wondering what would happen if she gave in and made a wish on the brightest star.

And then, there was, of course, the man who watched the other three, the one who sat in his window sipping a cup of wine, smiling in satisfaction as his third telescope showed him a perfect view of the woman he had been waiting for the past years. Too bad that their time of immortality had come to an end, he would miss the novelty of it.

But she was here, and more than that, she had fulfilled her promise and brought the Savior with her. "Finally, Belle, home at last," the Hatter whispered to himself, smirking at the way things where turning out.

**FINALLY! I'm done. This is the end of the "pilot", I cannot believe it took me so long, considering everything. I mean, really, lord this was long. The Comic Con reference was because I imagine a modern day Belle would be a fan of superheroes, and since her fairytale counterpart does spend lots of time trapped in cells, I thought Kitty Pryde's superpower (going trough walls/intangibility) would do her good. Emma, well, that was just a pun I couldn't resist. Did you enjoy my take on their adventures? (I wanted to add more but, as I said, too long). Next chapter, I plan on delving into those "adventures" that Emma and Belle had that included third parties, because, after all, you didn't expect Belle and Emma not to have at least a few bad relationships in the past, right? What of Jefferson? Is he a friend, is he a foe? Is he a rapper? **

**Now questions, how do you think Emma will handle Belle's revelation that the curse might be real? And Evil Regina, how is she going to react when she sees Belle? (I personally want Belle to punch her, but we can't have that because Belle is all "say no to violence") Now, this chapter took a lot of me, and I mean it, so please REVIEW. Come on, this chapter is too long/special for it not to get any love... it's just a button, you know you want to... gosh I need to write shorter things.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Once more, thanks to Milarqui for his awesome work at correcting the many mistakes that slipped in the writing of this story. **

**Old A/N: Okay peeps, here I am, still without a laptop and doing all I can to post a good chapter and circunvent all the crap my country's going through. Let's just assume it's not a very nice place on the street after the elections, but I'm sure you guys don't want to hear about Venezuela's political climate these past two weeks, so back to the story. I had sort of an internal battle over what to put in chapter 8, I know it's been two weeks and can only ask you to forgive me for the delay. Trust me when I say it kills me as much as it kills you. Thanks for all the reviews, really, it makes these stolen moments in the computer so worth it, I'm going to try to write more long chapters if you are going to react like that I seriously love you all and hope you like it.**

**So when I started writing this chapter these where the things I wanted: a) Sheriff Graham, B) Rumbelle, C) Emma and Belle bonding, D) Mary Margaret E) make Emma believe F) Henry cuteness G) more Rumbelle H) Jefferson spookiness. You get it, I wanted to write entirely too much for a single chapter, which is what I realized once I'd got to page 11 and was like a kid at Christmas, nowhere near getting everything I wanted, so, since I owe it to you I decided to post what I had written so far.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own OUAT, that's all on ABC, if I did most of season two would have been cut from script, Sheriff Skinny Jeans (Graham) wouldn't be dead and Jefferson would have a indoor pool in his mansion.**

**Chapter eight: Impossible things and possible ones too**

Emma awoke that morning to the incesant chirping of bluebirds at her window. One look around her and she remembered where she was.

"What's up with the birds in this place?" She groaned, and the shuffling in the bed right across her told her Belle would probably send a sleepwalking punch if she ever tried to wake her. But, then again, Emma could use a little time to put her thoughts together before her sister woke up. After all, the conversation they had had before they went to sleep had hit a nerve, and while she would never willingly admit it to anybody, she was starting to believe a bit.

_The night before_

Belle and Emma sat on the floor, clad in pajamas and laughing and swatting each other with their pillows, telling each other about their day and teasing mercilessly when they could, just like they would at home.

"And, this Sheriff Graham you are talking about, is he handsome?" Belle asked while she brushed her brown curls.

Emma rolled her eyes, but this was her best friend, so she answered honestly. "_Very_ handsome. He has this rugged Irishman thing going on, you know."

Belle laughed. "OK, then. Sheriff, rugged and Irish. Forgive me if I don't believe it until I see him with my own eyes." Emma raised an eyebrow. "You do have a tendency to fall for men that look like hobos," Belle pointed out. Emma snorted. "What? It's true, admit it."

"Fine," Emma conceded. "I might have a weakness for the "atypical" kind of handsome, but at least I have a better romantic story than you, little miss one-kiss-runner."

"What can I say? I like my men clean, shaved and with available passes to Haiti." Belle laughed. Out of the two, she was the one that had been in the nicest relationships... well, if one could call kissless dates that. "I'm the one who has the better outlook."

She had dated nice, average but brilliant joes, a pediatric surgeon, a real state agent, an Air Force pilot, a chef, a congressman (albeit briefly) and a computer programmer, men with solid lives and hopeful futures, while Emma, who was more of the edgy kind, dated struggling musicians, sweet talking bartenders and handsome bikers.

Again, Emma snorted. "Let's agree to disagree. I might have a terrible taste in men, but you, my friend, are worse for wear than me." It was a running joke between them that, once Belle kissed a man, he did not stick around for long.

"Oh, woe is me. I am cursed to be single and live vicariously through you for the rest of my life."

"Oh, no, you aren't. I'll be damned if I let you be my third wheel until old age. It wasn't your fault."

Sure, it wasn't Belle's fault that, after that first kiss, her dates suddenly remembered their true heart's desire and became increasingly honest. The pediatric surgeon had had an epiphany "thanks to her kindness" and moved to Haiti the next day to do humanitarian work, the real state agent realized he was still in love with his ex-wife, the Air Force pilot had become sincere and confessed that she was "the girl of his dreams" but wanted to get in her pants first, the chef was in an affair with his boss's wife and did not want "to hurt a girl as nice as her", and the charming congressman (now senator) had realized he was gay after kissing her. And the computer programmer... well, that was actually his stalker crazy ex, who had ambushed her during their third date and threatened to kill her.

"Too bad you decided to be done with men after the one with the crazy ex. Now, who's going to provide humor to my life?" Emma poked at Belle's side.

"Yeah, well, I can still hope, but seriously, did they all have to find something that was more important than me?" Belle mumbled, twirling strands of her hair into a braid.

"At least they were nice and honest. Look at me, and see the other side of the spectrum." Emma's relationships might have been more lasting than her friend's, but that did not mean they had been less painful in the end.

"But we have got to believe there's love out there for us anyway, otherwise..."

"It would suck," Emma finished.

"Want me to braid your hair too?" Belle asked, surveying her handiwork as the sloppy side braid fell on to her shoulder.

"Sure, just don't get carried away, will you?" The Emma of six years before would have screamed bloody murder at the suggestion that she would ever be in her pajamas, letting a friend braid her hair while talking about boys, just as she would have if someone told her she'd come to trust another human being as much as she did Belle, but the present day Emma was not her twenty two year old self, and the kind of familiarity that came with having a talk like this, sleepover style, was something she had come to welcome during the past years.

"We are both kind of jaded, aren't we?" Belle wondered, passing her hairbrush through Emma's mess of blond hair, watching her friend wince when she pulled at the tangles. "I keep waiting to see if it gets better, the whole us against the world thing."

"Me too, and in some ways it has gotten better, so it's not as if our case is hopeless," Emma pointed out, being surprisingly optimistic. "We are not the same girls that camped out in the Arizona desert four years ago, remember that time?"

Belle chuckled. "There's nothing like having your car breakdown on the road to Phoenix to give you a whole new perspective on life."

"And you said you liked sunny places."

"Hey, I was refering to California and Miami Beach sunny!"

"I think, after that time in Phoenix, both of us could safely agree we disliked the Arizona type of sunny." They had had to spend the night in the desert with only what they had in Emma's car as impromtu tent and eating arrangements untill the tow truck came the next morning. Belle, who had never been lost in the desert before, had been so traumatized by the experience that she had later signed them both up for survival-in-the-wilderness classes in their next semi-permanent home.

"The desert does that to people," Belle nodded, and secretly not resisting the urge, she tied a pink ribbon at the end of Emma's braid, hoping the blonde wouldn't notice.

"Too many places, too many faces," Emma agreed.

"Too many things to make us blue," Belle hummed, sleepily recognizing some sort of song. "Emma?"

"Yes Belle?" Emma asked with a yawn.

"Do you think Henry is right about the curse?"

"No, he's just a confused little boy, why? Do you think he's right about the curse?" Emma was humoring her. They where both sleepy, that much her friend was certain, but, well, she didn't care.

"He said people here don't age," Belle said, slowly getting up from the floor in a tired haze and offering Emma her hand to pull her up. "He said people here forgot who they are and their memories were replaced."

"I know, but he is a child, I used to believe things too at his age."

"But I don't grow old too, Emma." Her voice had been sweet, vulnerable, so soft Emma's head snapped, and she looked into the brunette's blue eyes. "You know it, don't you." Belle didn't phrase it as a question. By then, it was already a statement.

"It doesn't mean that what Henry is saying is real," Emma tried to explain. "You have a condition or something."

"One that only you notice? One that keeps me in the same place while you move on?" Belle's eyes were open, vulnerable, and Emma realized she was telling the truth. She suddenly felt very selfish: Belle had been her friend since forever, she had taken care of Emma when she felt she did not deserve anybody's friendship, she had been faithful and had been a constant shoulder to lean on, she did not deserve to have her life stilled. "What if it's true? What if there is really something going on here? What if..." Belle trailed off and shook her head.

Emma didn't know what to say. She wanted Belle to be happy and she knew for a fact that her friend would not be telling her to consider Henry's crazy theory if she herself had not already both gone over it and freaked out about it. Then, Emma remembered Mary Margaret, the sweet, open faced school teacher that taught Henry, how she felt instantly connected, how she'd just felt right talking to her. "It's not just you," Emma whispered, because trying to hide what she was thinking would have done her no good, because if she considered it, then it meant she would find her parents, it meant, it meant...

"I know, and it scares me too." Belle knew her too well, and like many times before, Emma felt oddly grateful for the novelty of not having to explain herself. "I don't know what would happen if I ever found my family either."

"But you are you, and it's great, because being you everybody loves you, it's a given." Emma tried not to let the sudden anguish be heard in her voice. "But not me. What if what you say is true? Wouldn't that mean my parents have been here during my whole life? Wouldn't that mean I'm a bad person for blaming them for all the crap that's happen? What if I meet them and I'm not what they expect?"

"Why in the world would they feel that way?" Belle asked surprised at her heartfelt outburst. Emma snorted: of course Belle never thought anything was wrong with her. She was Belle: forgiving, sweet and this close to sainthood, but experience had taught her people out there where hurtful and she should distrust everything. A small part of herself would always be hearing what many mean foster brothers and sisters had whispered about her when she was a child. That she was unloved. That she was ugly. That nobody would ever want her because, who would want a girl her own parents rejected?

But that was then, this was now, and here was Belle with her open eyes placing her hand on Emma's shoulder and smiling. "I know that your parents loved you Emma. I know it because nobody wraps a baby in a blanket made with so much care witout loving the baby in there." Belle knew Emma did not like to be hugged, but this warranted a little rule-breaking, so she gave her friend a tight one. "And I know that, whoever they are, even if the curse ends up being a joke, wherever they are, they'd be so proud of who you are. I know it because you are my friend."

"Thanks." Emma was not the type to return hugs, but Belle was the exception. "And I don't mean just for this, I mean for everything," she said earnestly, and Belle understood.

"You are welcome," Belle grinned. "Besides, Henry already joined the club you know?"

"What club?"

"the I-think-Emma-Swan-is-awesome club, of course." Belle made a banner sign with her hands and Emma laughed.

"Let me guess, you both are fighting over presidential rights."

"Yup, and, as much as it hurts my heart to say it... I'm afraid your son is winning."

They both laughed for a while, remembering Henry's cute face when talking about Emma, as though his mother were the place the sun rose and set.

"It's easier when one is in denial, isn't it?" Emma sighed.

Belle nodded and smiled warmly. "Can you just consider it, what Henry said about the curse?" She moved to her own bed, deciding Emma had enough of her support for the night and any more coddling would be contraproducent. "I know it's too much to ask, and it really sounds crazy," Belle looked down, "but if you ever had a chance, albeit small one, of finding who you are, wouldn't you take it?"

"Belle, I..." Emma interrupted, but Belle shook her head.

"For me, please," her friend smiled in resignation, "just think about it."

This, at least, Emma could do. "I'll sleep on it, I promise."

"Thank you, Emmie." Emma turned off the lights, and minutes later, after much fidgeting, finally fell asleep.

So here she was, considering Henry's crazy fairytale theory, because Belle had asked her to.

Belle, her friend, who sat in her room and talked about boys with her, who painted her nails and let her cry on her shoulder when things got too rough for her, who was a sensible librarian, honest and kind.

This was the one person in the world who knew her better than anybody. Belle simply had a good heart. She was the one who believed Emma wasn't thrown away in a ditch, and constantly told her that, maybe, her parents were not the evil people her time in the system made them out to be. "We all are only human" was the motto: she said it when she was treated badly at work, when a jerk grabbed her ass in the subway, even once when she got mugged.

In Belle's world, everybody deserved second chances, most and foremost Emma, who was jaded and scarred. She believed in joy and happiness, even when she'd gone through more rough patches than she deserved. Sometimes, Emma still wondered if her friend lived in the same world she did, because while Emma saw a view that just generally sucked, Belle saw "potential". Belle saw good in the crappiness of any situation, and it was contagious: somewhere in the way, Emma had begun to think that, if someone like Belle could find ways to smile, then maybe she was not so hopeless.

This was why Emma wanted so badly to protect her. Emma did not have family, but Belle was the closest thing she had. She teased Emma about her boyfriends, went shopping with her, made tea on rainy days, got tickets to her favorite bands and then convinced Emma to come along, they both dragged each other out of bed when one needed to get to work, and danced in their pijamas on Saturday mornings.

She had become family, really, and Emma wanted her to be happy. She deserved her memories. Nobody knew how Belle felt better than Emma, and even when the brunette tried to hide it, Emma knew that, deep down, Belle wanted to find herself, to stop feeling empty. Her nightmares had been increasing lately, and the worst part was she was not having the usual ones.

Emma knew it was wrong, especially since Belle's dreams were private, but she had become worried over the past months, and on a very sneaky afternoon, she had swiped her friend's dream journal from her bag, just to know what it was that had the brunette so unsettled.

It was strange, because now, apart from her nightmares of purple smoke and iron cells (that she recorded for her shrink to talk about), Belle had also begun to dream other things, things that made Emma feel sad and guilty. Because Belle sometimes dreamed of picket fences and holding a baby. She dreamed of running behind someone and telling him she would never let him go. She dreamed of having a garden filled with roses, of children and libraries as big as a house.

The thing was, Emma knew that, because of Belle's "condition" and memory loss, she probably didn't think she'd ever have a chance at all those things that leaked through the cracks of her subcouncious. Emma herself had given up on dreams like that a long time ago. But this was what happened when you loved someone, you began to wish for them to get their happy ending, even if it was dowright hypocritical that you did not believe said happiness existed for yourself. And while Belle always claimed it was fine. Emma knew she did not deserve to be stilted in time. Perhaps, like Henry said, the people in Storybrooke were not aware of time passing, but in her friend's case, SHE WAS, and nobody knew better than Emma how much it hurt her.

So what if it sounded crazy? Belle had been right, Henry had opened the realm of "possibility", which was more than her friend had ever hoped she would get. There was a small chance that the reason Belle was amnesiac and did not age was not entirely a logical one, but it was a chance, and Emma vowed she would help her.

Looking at her watch, Emma gasped. "Okay, enough is enough, I am so not going to languish in bed all morning, and neither are you," she said, directing her comment to the sleeping form in the neighbor bed that only grunted in response. Emma got up and opened the curtains. Seeing the copy of Phantom of the Opera in the nightstand that she had not seen the night before, the blonde woman snorted. "You little weasel, you spent half the night reading, didn't you?"

"ogwaaayyyy," the brunette mumbled, pulling the sheets over her face as the light of the window drenched the room.

"Nope, and I am so not going to let you sleep in when you know too well that reading at night has this effect on you." Emma pulled the covers away, but Belle took a pillow and put it over her face.

"Emma bad," Belle grumbled, groggy as though chiding a dog. "Gowaway."

"Fine, I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice, Sophie Reed." Emma knew Belle did not like to be woken in the way she was about to, but, well, she should not have been reading overnight. If she had not been then she would have got a good night sleep and this would have been avoided. "Don't say i didn't warn you sis," and then Emma expertly took hold of the bottom sheet of the bed from both corners, and pulled with all her force, causing Belle to roll over and fall to the floor with a thud.

"Ow, Emma, what the hell?" Ah, the sweet sound of victory.

"I warned you fair and square."

Belle ignored her and grabbed her cellphone. "Fork, what time is it?" As usual, Belle being Belle, she did not swear, but when she was disgruntled on mornings, she got close.

"It's just past seven thirty, sleepy head." Emma laughed. "Wasting our day today is so not an option, come on, get dressed," she said, tossing Belle the first thing she dug out of her yellow suitcase.

"Meanie." Belle stuck her tongue out in a very five-year-old way

"Princess."

"Bossypants."

"Nerd," Emma sang back triumphantly.

Belle rolled her eyes, and finally shaking out of her stupor, dashed for the door. "First one out of the bathroom pays for breakfast!" she taunted in a sing song voice.

"Belle! Get back here!"

Storybrooke in the mornings was not different from other towns, despite of the curse or perhaps in spite of it. Everything seemed to always work with a clockwork, almost robotic monotony.

"Really, Soph, reading on the street is only going to cause you to be run by a car," Emma groaned, because Belle (who had the annoying habit of literally not being able to put a book down untill she read it all) was walking next to her, nodding absentmindedly, completely focused in her book, not caring if she got odd stares from random passerbys.

"I'm about to finish Ems, just one more chapter," Belle mumbled, flipping a page. Emma noticed she was about to walk straight into a lightpost and gently took her elbow to steer her away from it, which of course, Belle failed to notice as she prattled about the plot of the book. "And there's this singer, whose name is Cristine and she's sort of a ingenue, very naive and trusting, and Erik, the phantom that is, he's posing as the all knowing voice that sings to her and teaches her to sing and she calls him the angel of music who she thinks is the spirit of her dead father."

Again, Emma decided to ride the wave until she could get Belle's attention. "But the phantom isn't the spirit of her dead father?" she asked, not really interested.

"Of course not, he's this madman that lives in the catacombs of the opera and has a very bad disfigurement, oh, wait a minute." Belle flipped a page. "Look at that, now they introduced Raoul, he's in love with Christine."

Emma, her hand still holding Belle's elbow, pulled her down the street like a K-9 unit for the blind, which she might as well be, considering she was keeping her bookish friend from bumping into people and lampposts, but that was Belle for her, she could be incredibly deep and insightful some days and totally engrossed in her reading on others.

To outsiders, they looked like a very funny pair, with Belle having her nose all but pressed into her book and Emma holding her elbow, trying to pretend she was not internally fretting everytime Belle's foot came close to stepping in a ditch.

Particularly to the man watching them through the telescope in his living room, who watched with amusement how the small brunette seemed oblivious to her friend's efforts. He deduced, perhaps correctly, that it was a normal occurrence for them, one of them walking and the other clearing the path for her.

He wished he could listen to what Belle's new alter ego was telling the Savior so animatedly. No doubt it had to do with something very funny indeed, because the Savior was just shaking her head with barely suppressed mirth, and Jefferson tried not to laugh when Emma heaved a sigh reaching Granny's diner.

He also was very interested in another part of the story's development, as he watched Mr Gold surreptitiously observe the newcomers from his place at the other side of the road.

Of course he knew why Gold had not made his move yet. Like Jefferson, the man was no fool. He had crafted the curse himself, a curse that prevented people from being happy. Emma or no Emma, Regina's rules still applied, and while fate was certainly keeping Belle out of her eye for the time being, it would not stay that way for long.

Then there was the fact that the Dark One did not know what, why or how his true love had been spared by the curse. Emma's arrival had only cracked the edges, not even close to breaking a spell for which a human heart was needed. He wasn't privy to the details of the life the former princess of Avonlea had led in between her exodus from the Dark Castle and this day. Jefferson deduced that Mr Gold would just, per his custom in the other land, watch from afar, and bide his time until the perfect opportunity arose. The Hatter rather admired the attitude in hindsight. He knew that, if he himself were presented the opportunity to see Grace's mother back from the dead, he would never be able to leave her side or let her go.

Yet here was Mr Gold, watching the brown haired beauty trapsize around town with her nose in a book, tripping over the bumps in the sidewalk, completely oblivious to the world, with only a fond smile in his face to betray what he was really feeling. The man was sharper than the Queen gave him credit for: if he wasn't right now running in his true love's direction with his heart in hand, it was because he was ganging the situation first.

Then again, there was the situation of the Savior. In Jefferson's eyes, what he considered an added bonus was probably only a complication for Gold. The daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White was everything he had assumed she would be: good hearted, independent, brave, strong, and, most of all, fiercely protective of the people she loved. And one would have to be a fool not to notice Belle was probably on top of the list, right next to her son in importance. The blonde woman fretted entirely too much over her friend. To the Hatter's trained eye, who had become something of an expert in body language and lip reading over the past 28 years, Emma's reactions and facial expressions betrayed how much she cared about Rumplestiskin's true love (not that it surprised him, he had only met Belle once in the past but he could understand how easy it was to love someone as selfless as her), but he knew also that the Savior would soon come to view Gold as the beast he was, and needless to say she would probably not be happy if he showed his interest in her one true friend.

Hmm, so it was, the complications not even the great Dark One could predict. Jefferson was tempted to laugh: this time, Regina would have to make the first move in their twisted little game of power, because if his deductions were right, Gold had the winning hand.

He secretly wondered if he counted on the fact Belle's memories were probably going to be more easily triggered than the rest of town, thanks to her proximity to the Savior. "Probably not... this is going to be interesting," Jefferson murmured to himself, deciding he rather liked his place in the window.

"Hello, Sophie and Emma, what may I do for you?" Ruby asked, bouncing her way to their table, notepad in hand.

"Hello Ruby," Belle chirped with a dazed smile, and returned her eyes to her book, all but paying no attention to the waitress.

"Is she always like that?" Ruby asked Emma, who could only nod "she's barely looked at anybody."

"She doesn't do it out of spite, really, it's just that once Sophie is engrossed in a book, she is only vaguely aware of the world around her, so it's easy to think she's purposely snubbing people."

"Oh, that explains it. Too bad our library's been closed since forever, I'm sure she'd love the place," Ruby then took out her notepad. "So what's your order?"

"Mmm, I want the pancakes with cottage cheese on the side, and Sophie will have..." then she turned to Belle. "Sophie... Sophie... earth to Soph," she said, shaking her.

Belle blinked, and looked away from her book, focusing her eyes. "Oh, yes, sorry, were you asking for my order?" Emma, who was very used to this type of behavior, at least on mornings, held back her laugh.

"I would have ordered for you, but I didn't think you wanted pancakes."

"Oh, was I out for that long?" again Belle's gaze was unfocused. Ruby decided that, judging by her patient expression, this wasn't a new development for Emma. Giving the menu a once over, Belle shrugged.

"What's at the top of the list today? Any recommendations?"

"Well, you didn't hear it from me," Ruby whispered "but the cook in the back does a pretty cool trick with the scrambled eggs and the toast."

"French toast and scrambled eggs would do nicely, then." Belle smiled in reply. "Thank you, Ruby, you are very kind."

Ruby tried not to feel whiplash, wondering how one person could be so absentminded in a minute and so attentive the next. "Anything to drink?"

"Hot cocoa, please, and could you sprinkle cinnamon on top? I like it that way," Emma said, politely rolling her eyes at Belle, who had returned to her book.

"I'll have a warm mug of green tea with two teaspoons of sugar, a drop of honey and, if you have them, can you add a couple of mint leaves?" Belle recited automatically without even raising her eyes.

Ruby stared open mouthed at Belle. She knew that order by heart. Sure, in Emma's case it was almost predictable, Henry liked cocoa with cinnamon (as did Mary Margaret, Henry's teacher), so no surprises there, but this girl who had never been there in her life... "I mean, seriously? That's what she's drinking? No offense to your sister, but, really?" Ruby looked at Emma as though Belle had just grown two heads, which confused the blond.

"I don't understand, what's wrong with Sophie's choice of tea?" Emma asked. "I mean, I know it's a little out there, but it's her favorite, even Starbucks has it," she said with a shrug.

"Oh, never mind, I'll go get your order." Ruby once again decided against freaking Emma out.

"No, tell me," Emma probed, she was in a good mood after all.

"Well, it's nothing really, it's just I happen to know only one other person in town who takes his tea exactly like your sister." Ruby shrugged, her tiny mini skirt drawing the eye of a nearby Dr Whale. "Only, his choice of tea is black not green, see no big deal." The waitress was trying to hide her discomfort, but without success.

"Huh? You mean, there's another person in this world who can stand it?" Of course, Emma knew what Belle's morning tea tasted like. She had been living with the woman for six years, and she was particular aware that sugar, honey and mint was, how to put it nicely... a sort of "acquired taste"... one that probably was up there with eating snake and dressing pink. "Who?" she asked, incredulous.

Ruby sighed and pointed to the far side of the diner. "Mr Gold."

**See? I get too carried away and Bit more than I could chew... AN: just thought you should know that the book Belle is reading is Phantom of the Opera, a novel written by Gaston Leroux (not the musical, not the movie, NOVEL). I chose it for many reasons: a) it's French, b) it was written by a guy named like Belle's ex, c) unlike the musical, in the book the phantom is actually very beastly looking, and d) it's a wonderful book that had me running into lampposts too. The scene with Emma and Belle doing a sleepover style night is something I've wanted to do for a long time. I think that, since Emma wasn't unhappy and alone before she came to Storybrooke and actually had some sort of support system in her life, it's possible that her attitude might have been a little more accepting of the curse, don't you think? also what did you think of Belle's personal "kissing curse?"... Finally, thanks to everybody that reviewed last chapter, it made me strong enough to keep going these weeks...**

**So in a effort to preserve my sanity... please, I beg you... review again... please, pretty please... I like to know my work is apreciated... reviewing isn't that hard, right? so please do it... pleasee... reviewwwwwww...**


	9. Chapter 9

Once more, thanks to Milarqui for his awesome work in correcting my grammar and ortography mistakes, which were quite massive.

Old A/N: Hello, peeps! First of all, thank you all for the amazing reviews of the last chapter! They made my heart beat faster =), which comes to prove begging works! So yeah, I'm pretty sure I'll be doing lots of that from now on. I'm currently off school for a few days, which is driving me crazy since I thrive under pressure. Venezuela's political enviroment? Still awful. I'd like to offer my sincere condolences to the people affected, directly or indirectly, by the Boston tragedy, before we get on with the story.

Now, on to story news. I've decided that, since I'm not liking August that much lately, even though Eion Bailey is in all his rights a HOTTIE, I'm bringing in Neal as a secondary love interest for Emma in further chapters (a love triangle has got to have three angles after all) because a) I can and b) he's Rumple's son. Why in the world would I leave him out of the equation? So, you've been warned, I'm bringing in Neal, which is not to say I'll forget about August completely, but that comes in later, not now.

Right now, I'm watching a video called "The Courtship of Mary Tudor". Guys, go watch it, it will so make you a hardcore Sleeping Hook fan! As of today I declare, Collin O'Donahue and Sarah Bolger belong together! I don't actively ship anything non canon, but here I break all rules. SLEEPING HOOK ROCKS.

_Now on with the disclaimer: ...don't judge a writer by the grammar. I don't own ABC or the OUAT franchise, else I'm pretty sure most of season two would have been cut from script and Jefferson would have more on-screen time. Right now I get by with just owning this fanfic._

Chapter nine: Operation Cobra starts

"OK, I really didn't expect that," Emma admitted, looking at Mr Gold, who was keenly aware of the measuring looks he was getting from Ruby and the Savior. "I mean, have you tasted it? Trust me, everything Sophie puts in her tea mug doesn't taste well together."

"I have," Ruby shuddered, "which is why I almost choked when she ordered it. I mean I pegged her more as a coffee and cream kind of person."

"But, seriously, why is everybody so scared of Gold?" Emma wondered again. Mr Gold tried to pretend he was reading his newspaper, which was taking most of his concentration, considering Emma was actively staring now. "So he owns the town, but come on, he doesn't look that intimidating, yet you and Granny keep acting like he's some kind of monster."

"And that's the kind of talk that clearly points out you are new around here." Ruby snorted. "The man may not look the part of a monster, but trust me, he is. One wrong look, one wrong step, and it's you and everything you own out in the street before the sun is up. He's got connections, call it law, call it voodoo, call it being a bastard, but when you owe that man something you either pay up or resign yourself to a very miserable existence," Ruby gushed, glad to both warn Emma and share the gossip.

"Ouch, and I thought Regina was bad," Emma groaned. "So he's kinda like a mobster, right? You know, Russian Mafia?" She had dealt with a couple of mobsters on her job, and honestly she did not want to hear it.

"At least the Russians eventually get caught by cops. Gold has a habit of screwing people over and doing everything so that it seems perfectly legal, which is worse than the Mafia."

"OK, so, yes, that's the man my baby sister both insulted and almost crashed into yesterday. No pressure, no pressure at all," Emma said, uncomfortable.

"The man is known as the Beast of Storybrooke for a reason." The waitress shrugged. "Sophie has it bad, just saying."

"Great, first time ever she gets into troble and it's like this. I knew I should have left her in Boston."

"SHE is here, still listening," Belle droned, not looking up from her book, "and talking about people as though they are not there is rude Ems. Ruby, stop freaking her out, it's rude too." Her blank eyes still pretty much in what she was doing, Belle reached out into thin air and dug into the pockets of the jacket Emma had draped in her seat, pulling out a folded piece of cardboard.

"Sophie shouldn't be talking about rudeness when she hasn't made eye contact with us since she sat down," Emma shot back.

"And Emma should be used to it by now," Belle bounced back with a bored tone, still reading.

"But Sophie should remember not to be a sore loser just because I won our race this morning," Emma shot back triumphantly.

"Fine, I'm not reading now, happy?" Belle snapped, putting the carboard bookmark in the middle of her book and closing it with a little more force than necessary.

"Very happy." Emma sighed in relief, then she turned to a very amused Ruby.

"Is she like that every morning?" Ruby wondered.

Emma sighed. "Try living with her for a couple of years and then you tell me." The blond massaged her temples.

"What? I wasn't saying anything, actually I'll go get your orders now." The waitress replied with barely supressed laughter, skipping away from them with light steps.

"I think you just scared her away," Belle pointed out, watching their waitress's retreating back.

"Or she's secretly laughing at us from behind the counter."

"Probably."

And, as then they both laughed in mutual silliness, Belle noticed the headline of the newspaper the person in the booth in front of her was reading. _STRANGER DESTROYS PRECIOUS TOWN SIGN_. Rolling her eyes, she nudged her companion in conspiracy and pointed. "Looks like, oops, you did it again."

"What? Oh," Emma groaned. "This is why I hate small towns." She harrumphed, then she saw Belle's face, and shook her head realizing what she was about to do. "No, no, you are not going to -"

"Excuse me, sir, could I see your newspaper for a second?" Belle sang, using her sweetest tone. When the man in question turned to give an answer, Emma groaned again.

"You! Not again."

"And nice to see you too Emma," Sheriff Graham chuckled, closing up the newpapaper and regarding them both with roguish amusement.

"You know this man?" her friend asked, not really liking the way they both were having eye sex with each other, leaving her out.

"Oh, sorry, my bad. Sophie, this is Sheriff Graham I-don't-know-his-last-name," Emma said, pointing to the rugged Irishman, who was looking at her with a dangerous smile. " I believe I mentioned him yesterday when I told you I was handcuffed and thrown into jail unfairly." Belle almost had the urge to cover her face at the look Graham was giving Emma. If a guy ever looked at her like that, she would be red as a tomato in no time.

"You were breaking the law, and I have no qualms about doing it again if you insist on it," Graham smiled wolfishly.

Belle, unable to help herself, nudged Emma. "Why did that statement sound so suggestive Emmie?" she asked innocently, causing Emma to go red and Graham to laugh.

"And this, Graham, as you just saw, is my little sister Sophie."

"Spare the little if you want to remain on my good side," Belle sang, extending her hand, and once again Emma was witness to that special superpower her friend had of making friends out of people she just met, because even Graham's façade cracked, and he smiled genuinely.

"Nice to meet you Sophie, and here you go." Graham extended the newspaper to her, which the brunette didn't hesitate in opening.

"Nice to meet you too, although I wish it were under different circumstances," Belle replied, always the polite one, but Graham was no longer looking at her after she opened the newspaper. He was looking at Emma, which proved her hunch that Emma had left out some things about her meeting with the town's law enforcer.

"I get that all the time, guess it comes with being a Sheriff." He even got Emma to smile. "I see you decided to stay."

"what can I say, turns out getting thrown into jail yesterday made me realize Storybrooke had a certain charm to it," Emma said sarcastically.

"Who would have thought, right?" Graham grinned, not unphased at all. "Turns out our picturesque seaside town appeals to your sensibilities."

"Yeah, yeah, with a welcome like the one you gave me I can see why you guys don't get a lot of tourists."

"I get it Storybrooke's very different from Boston."

"And LA, and Miami, and Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania, and god-forsaken Arizona," Emma listed with her fingers, still sarcastically, "but who's keeping score, right?"

Graham grinned, getting up and sitting across her. "One question," he said, his face coming as close to hers as the table allowed. "If you don't like it here as much as you say you do, why stay?"

Emma could smell his aftershave, a woodsy smell she couldn't place. She briefly wondered what it would be like to get a little closer to his lips...

_Bad Emma, bad Emma, stop thinking about how attractive he is, snap out of it, come on_, Emma chided herself. "Told you, it's all about the charm," she replied, giving him a secretive look.

"Oh, they made you seem like such a villain, Emmie," Belle interrupted their staring contest in a very sisterly way before things could get more heated, pointing at the newspaper and reading out loud. "_Stranger runs over historical town sign, cower in terror._" She laughed. "It's a pretty sign, but don't you guys think THIS is exagerating things?"

Graham looked away from Emma's eyes and hoped Belle hadn't caught him ogling her sis. He shrugged, composing himself. "Talk to the mayor about that. She's pretty strict when it comes to keeping her town spotless." Then he looked at the watch above the entrance. "And speaking of the mayor, I better head off to the station." He acted nonchalant, but Belle could see he was vaguely nervous when he mentioned her. "Nice meeting you Sophie, I really hope you don't take after your sister." He winked, and both Belle and Emma rolled their eyes.

"I don't, oh and Graham," Belle called after him, smiling sweetly. "My sister's single, in case you didn't notice," she said, returning the wink. Graham immediately dropped his eyes to the floor, embarassed, and had the good sense to duck out of the diner before Emma could catch his reaction. It was needless, though, because the Savior was already angry enough at Belle, who sat sheepishly, smiling at her outraged face.

"SOPHIA ELIZABETH REED!" Emma seethed. "That was uncalled for, and very embarassing!"

"Well, someone had to tell him, and it's not like the poor fellow was going to ask outright."

"You just met him!"

"You like him, and he was ogling you all over. I just nudged things up a bit."

Emma balled her hands into fists. "I am so going to get back at you for that."

"Ohh please, as if, he was checking you out and you know it." Belle laughed, watching the heat rise even higher in Emma's cheeks. "Oh my gosh, you're blushing, and trying to hide it too," Belle squealed.

"Sophie, stop it, you're seeing things, I'm not blushing," Emma lied, looking away, "and I certainly DON'T like him."

"Work on your lying skills, Ems. You do like him, and I give it to you, you weren't lying when you said he was handsome." Did Belle enjoy making Emma uncomfortable? Hell, yes. Was Emma going to forgive her and forget to get even later? Nope.

"OK. One, yes he's handsome, two, I'm not here to flirt, three, I'm here for Henry, and four, what have I told you about meddling in my love life?"

"So, you admit Graham IS part of your love life!"

"Yes, no, that's not what I said. I said that I am a person, not your personal matchmaking project, and keep your voice down," Emma hissed, looking around their booth to see if anybody was listening.

"But what's the problem with Candyman? For what I can see he's handsome, witty and nice," Belle listed. "Plus, he has a stable job, which is more than I can say for the Ghost of Boyfriends Past, Emma edition."

"What about the part where he locked me in jail, no questions asked, and was easily manipulated by the crazy sociopath that adopted my son?" Emma pointed out, always the practical one, munching off a breadstick from the basket in their table. "That's the problem with Candyman, as you call him. Besides, didn't you hear our entire conversation?"

"Oh, I heard all right. Better yet, I saw." Belle wasn't going to be deterred, waving the Sheriff's forgotten newspaper. "And that conversation reeked of UST, what's with the long looks and glances that made me want to fan myself?" Belle made a motion with her hand. "Plus, when Candyman sat on our table, I almost ran away from the way he was looking at you... and you at him for the matter, it was either interrupting or calling for a pitcher of ice."

"What's UST?" Emma cut in, not really liking where the conversation was heading. Rolling her eyes, Belle took out a pen, wrote _Unresolved _ Tension_ on a napkin and pushed it towards Emma, whose eyes widened. "No way, there was nothing of that going on here, and we are waiting for breakfast for goodness sake, so stop it Belle," she hissed. "And stop calling him Candyman too."

"I was just saying," her friend sang deviously to the tune of Cristina Aguilera's song, "_he's a one stop shop, makes my goodies drop. He's a sweet talkin' sugar coated candyman. A sweet talkin' sugar coated candyman, ooh, yeah_."

Emma narrowed her eyes, while a thousand ways to kill her began popping in her head. "Oh, I swear, Belle, someday, someday, you hear me," she said accusingly, holding a breadstick in her direction like a weapon, "someday someone will catch your eye, you'll fall head over heels, out of your mind, completely in love to the point of stupidity, you just wait, and then I'll be the one teasing you to death."

Belle snorted. "Oh yeah, totally, come on, we both know that's not going to happen." She began supressing laughter. "Who's ever going to stay with me long enough for me to fall in love? Better yet, long enough not to run away to Haiti?" Belle joked. Emma knew Belle didn't know if she had ever fallen in love before her accident, and she never knew a man long enough to do it in her present life, so as it was, it was sort of strange how the fact she was amnesiac also meant she had never had her heart broken. Then again, she also did not know how a love other than family felt. It was a double edged sword that Emma thanked Belle's therapists for helping her overcome.

"If I were you, I'd be worried," Emma said fake omniously. "We both know karma's a bitch."

"Graham still was eating you with his eyes."

"Darn, Sophie, you are never going to let me hear the end of it, are you?" Emma groaned.

"Hear the end of what?" a sweet childlike voice startled them from behind.

"Henry!" Emma greeted, a little too joyful to see him for more than the obvious reasons. "Kid, I've never been this happy to see you in my life," she said, relieved. Saved by the bell, or in this case, the kid. Who would have thought? Another fiteen minutes under Belle's teasing and lord knows she would have slammed her head against the table.

"I'm happy to see you too, Emma." Henry didn't understand where the sudden, overly relieved welcome he was getting came from, but he liked it all the same. "Hi Sophie."

"Don't you have school to go to?" Belle asked warmly, genuinely happy to see the child too.

"It starts later, you guys eat too early," Henry shrugged, "and Granny gives me free breakfast."

"Blame your mother, she's like a freaking alarm clock," Belle grumbled. Both Henry and Emma smiled at the same time.

"Well, then join us kid, sit down." Emma wanted to hug him. She really did. What was with the kid that made her feel as though she hadn't seen him in a century, and not just the previous night?

Happy to comply, Henry propped himself in the chair Graham had just vacated. "So, what were you guys taking about?"

"Nothing," they both replied at the same time, a little too quick. Henry looked suspicious.

"Really?" he scrutinized both of them. Belle tried not to smooth down the edges of her summer dress, which she was known to do when she was nervous.

"You were not talking about anything important? At all?" Oh, he was good. He was using that voice Emma used when she chased criminals down. His birth mother was impressed, but Belle was about to crack, and she really didn't want her ten year old son to know the details of her non existent love life, so she deftly and nervously too changed the subject.

"Nope, we were not talking about anything important AT ALL." She narrowed her eyes at Belle, who hummed the Candyman tune under her breath with a tiny smile. "You know what, why don't we talk about the curse? Yep, the curse, you wanted to talk about it, right Henry?" Because, when it came to it, Emma Swan would rather talk about curses and fairytales in front of Henry than her budding attraction to Graham (rightly so by the way).

"Sophie said she would talk to you about it, did she talk to you?" Henry, seeing Belle was there, began by following her advice and taking baby steps. Belle smiled and nodded in appreciation, showing him he was going in the right direction.

"She did," Emma nodded.

"And?"

"Well..." the Savior stammered. "And this goes to both of you," Emma took a deep breath and watched two sets of eyes turn hopeful at what she was about to say. On second thought, maybe a diner was not the best place to discuss her belief system with the two people she cared the most about. "I slept on it, and thought about it, hard, and, you know, more or less freaked out about it."

Belle nodded in understanding, as did Henry.

"And decided that I am going to try," Emma said, letting out a long breath she had been holding. "This curse thing, it's a lot to swallow, considering, well, everything." She motioned around her with her arms. "But I am going to try. I'm going to keep an open mind. I'm not going to judge, and going to make a effort in this whole believing in fairytales thing." Her eyes were open, pleading. "And I hope that for now, it's enough for you, both of you."

"For now." Belle smiled, squeezing her hand. "That's a start." She knew how much it was taking her to make that choice, and she knew it was because she had asked her to, so Belle tried to be as supportive as possible.

"I'm okay with that, too," Henry said, his eyes shining with the same gleam he had had when he first saw Emma. "Besides, the heroine of the story never believes in herself at first. If she did, then it wouldn't be a good story, right? So that's okay, you can take your time breaking the curse."

"Talk about pressure. Most kids want their mothers to buy them a car, this one just wants me to break a curse, white knight style," Emma tried to joke to Belle. "So, if the fairy tale world exists, have you figured out who Sophie is yet?"

"No, not yet. I mean, if she escaped the curse, she ought to be here somewhere." Henry took out the storybook from his backpack and began flipping it. "It's not like I can google her to know who her fairytale person is, it's not that easy," he grumbled, frustrated.

"Hey, that's okay, maybe I'm some misplaced peasant" Belle shrugged goodnaturedly, already at ease with his fairitale slang. "OK, so which ones do you know?"

Emma was trying to keep an open mind, so she played along. "Dr Hopper is Jiminy Cricket, and Regina is the Evil Queen. Who else did you figure out?"

"Here you go, Emma and Sophie. Henry, I'll bring yours in a minute," Ruby said, interrupting what the child was about to say. Belle hastily arranged the table, as was her habit (one she did not know where she got from), and smiled prompting him to go on after Ruby dropped off his plate.

"Well, Ruby, is Red Riding Hood, and her Granny is Granny." Henry put a finger under his chin. "Marco, the carpenter down the block, he's got to be Geppeto, and the man that's always following my mom around, Sydney Glass, he's her magic mirror."

"The reporter that wrote the story about Emma?" Belle raised an eyebrow.

Henry nodded.

"Fair enough," Emma agreed, looking at the newspaper's name, _The Daily Mirror_.

"Other than that, I'm still doing some field work, which is why we need a name for our operation." Henry grinned. "I call this Operation Cobra," he said, motioning to the three of them.

"Awww, look at him, ten years old and he's already going GI-JOE," Belle cooed, teasing at Emma. "I like the name, all in favor of Operation Cobra raise your hands." Henry raised his and Belle humored him.

"Which has nothing to do with fairytales, but hey, I'm being open minded, right?" Emma sighed raising her hand too. "What's next?"

"Umm, I still need to figure out that part. The main point is, that you are here, which is already changing things." Henry pointed outside. "Like the clock tower, meaning time in Storybrooke isn't stilled anymore."

"Do you think that means I am not going to be stilled in time anymore too?" Belle wondered out loud. Emma kicked her under the table and looked at Henry pointedly. "Oh, don't worry, Emma, Henry already knows about my... condition, and he agreed not to tell anybody," she smiled. "Right Henry?"

"Pinky promise," Henry nodded, then he startled them by almost jumping out of his seat. "Look there, Miss Blanchard just came in. Can we call her over to eat with us? Please, pretty please," he pleaded, looking as the petite teacher make her way to ordering at the counter.

"Why not? The more the merrier, right Ems?" Belle replied.

"If that's what you want," Emma smiled at her son, "call her over." She shrugged her shoulders, trying to be nonchalant, but then again, Henry thought this woman was her mother.

Not needing to be told twice, the child called out to his teacher. "Miss Blanchard! Miss Blanchard! Come sit with us, over here!" Henry exclaimed entusiastically, making sure practically all the diner heard him. Emma dropped her head, a little too aware of how much attention they were getting. Belle simply thought Henry was amusing.

Meeting Mary Margaret Blanchard was something Belle would most likely remember for the rest of her time in Storybrooke, not because of her petite figure or soft spoken voice, but because of her strong physical resemblance to Emma. Sure, Emma was taller and blonder, and her face was less delicate than Mary Margaret's, but Belle prided herself in being observant. Henry did not need to tell her she was Snow White. Hell, Mary Margaret looked the part of Emma's sister better than Belle herself.

"Oh, hi, Henry, no need to shout that much. Be careful, or people are going to start thinking that's what I teach you at school," Mary Margaret said, smiling as she sat with them at Henry's request, who, in the same giddy fashion of a kid showing off his toys, promptly began gushing to Mary.

"Look, Miss Blanchard, this is Sophie, and you know my mom already, they're here to break the curse, isn't it great?"

"Hey, I thought _she_ was going to be the one breaking it, so what's the "they" for?" Belle joked to Henry while Emma regarded Mary with a frown.

"Well, yes, but you are going to help her, right?"

"Just like you are, I guess."

"See, Miss Blanchard," Henry chattered happily, "they believe me, I told you things would change when I brought Emma."

And at his sweet words three hearts in the table constricted a bit. Henry had inadvertently reminded them all how nobody believed in him before, and by extension, how lonely he had been.

"You know about the curse?" Emma asked, already liking Mary Margaret. She knew the woman had at least defended Henry while she could during the time she had been teaching him, and that alone made Emma want to trust her.

"I gave him the book remember?" Mary laughed.

"Let me guess, you are Snow White?" Belle said, voicing her suspicious out loud.

Henry grinned brightly and Mary Margaret laughed. "How'd you know?"

Belle looked from Emma to Mary, and back to Emma, watching the subtle similiarities in their faces and shook her head winking at Henry "Lucky guess."

_That's all for now folks. I am having huge writer's block, and can you believe that even with WB I still manage to be awesome and post good stuff? Did you like the Gremma chemistry thing going on? I personally imagine Belle being the type of roommate that is nosy to the point of teasing, like a little sister gushing about her eldest sister's diary, even though she's technically older than Ems. Next chapter, I swear it is going to be more exciting (got BIG things planned just saying). We might see Emma getting her revenge for the Graham incident, After all she did point out Karma's a bitch right? o_O Go Mary Margaret and Henry adorability, I loved writing the scene with Ruby dishing out about Mr Gold. He has a pretty bad rep in town and, while I don't think it matters much to Belle, it does matter to Emma, and Emma's opinion is pretty much the only one Belle will hear when it comes down to it._

Guys, one question? Would you mind too much if I did a 180 and brought in the people from fairy tale land version 2.0? You know, Hook, young Cora (not the old one, def not the old one), Mulan, Phillip, Tiny, Lancelot... it's a thought I've been having lately...

_Now did you all like this chapter? will you review me? please review, pleaseeeee *puts Henry pouty face* pleasee I beg you.. I'm a good writer, I treat you all well, !please review! pleaasee, I promise I'll be good, just review..._


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi people! Sorry for the delay, you know I've been having quite the dilemma this week, since I'm getting constantly blocked by, you guessed it, me. You see, the point of an AU is that I get to to do everything I want without bothering too much with the consequences, right? But I'm a natural lover of canon, which means deviating from the actual season one is something that goes against my very being, which means I get blocked by my own stuck-up streak everytime I try. But, if you go back to my first chapter, I told you all in not so many words that I was doing this to de-stress and let go a bit of said stuck up side...which brings me to where I am today: in a totally crappy uncreative place. Here goes nothing, don't say I didn't try...**

**DISCLAIMER:**

**Don't judge a writer by the grammar. I don't own ABC or the OUAT franchise. Else, I'm pretty sure most of season two would have been cut from script, and Jefferson would have more on-screen time. Right now, I get by with just owning this fanfic.**

**Chapter ten: Yellow roses and golden thoughts**

The first thing that occurred to Rumplestilskin when he woke up the first morning of the Savior's return was, predictably, that he wanted to kill someone.

Looking around at the lavish mansion and petty signs of wealth the curse had seen fit to give him, for the first time in his life made him feel no satisfaction. So, yes, he wanted someone dead.

Preferably Regina. But he would conform himself with the idiot that had placed the metaphorical bullseye on Belle's chest. Whoever he or she was that was responsable for this would not live to see the day long.

The second thought that came to his head the first day of the Savior's return was, of course, Belle, and everything concerning her, from the last time he had seen her in the Dark Castle to last night. She was still beautiful, of course, wearing modern clothing, and her hair was a lot shorter than he remembered. If there was any doubt it was her, then it should have dissapeared just by looking into the memories of their first Storybrooke encounter. The same determined posture, the defiant gleam in her eyes when he had threatened to take her licence. Only, now in this world, he chuckled to himself, she would have every right to tell him to go to hell for treating her like crap. Oh, he had known even then that she wanted to, but it was nice to see her better self had prevailed.

Then, of course, there was the moment when the Savior had introduced herself, and then it had hit him like a ton of bricks, becase Belle was there, and though she obviously did not know who he was, he had had a second to admire her before composing himself. Blue eyes filled with belief, clinging to Snow and Charming's daughter, peeking from behind Emma to look at him like a curious child who knew mom would scold her for staring too long... However nice it looked to others, Rumplestilskin knew a knight when he saw one. It was ironic, he mused as he began walking outside, wincing at the limp he really had not missed in his time as the Dark One, too ironic, that Belle had been pushed behind Emma as soon as she noticed. He supposed she must have got her instincts from her father, because, even when he looked like a normal man, the Savior's sixth sense had recognized the danger, reminding him a little too much of the first time he had met Belle's rosely departed fiancé, who too had pushed her behind him in a foolish attempt to protect her.

He supposed it was only normal for people to feel the need to protect her, given that it was obvious she coud not use brute force to save her life. Almost like he had summoned her with his mind, he saw her, walking next to Emma, facing the morning's crisp cold. He tried not to smile too much. She had not been a dream, there was no way he would be able to dream of her like that, wearing a denim jacket and jeans. His mind would probably have conjured her up either in a dress or in something else that was entirely innappropiate. This time, when the clock stroke, Gold did not even stop to look at the clock tower, because he knew it was already running. He preferred to watch in amusement how Emma seemed to be herding Belle around town, while the brunette could not care less whether what she tripped over was a fallen Leroy or a rock. It made him smile to know she was still alive, but better yet, it made him almost happy to know the curse had not seemed to have changed her like it had done to everybody else in Storybrooke.

There were questions, he knew. How had she escaped? when did she meet the Savior? Why didn't she remember if she had? What, exactly, DID she remember? How was it that she was still alive? He had many questions, but, just for now, he wanted to enjoy the feeling of almost having her back while it lasted. Soon, everything would revert back to how it was before, but Rumplestilskin could not help but hope, if only for a moment.

Granny's had been bustling as always. He had seen Emma pull Belle by the elbow and sit her almost mechanically, like if she were trying to arrange a doll, or a innanimate object.

And Belle had laughed, the sweetest sound he thought he would never hear again. She had laughed with Emma about something, and twice she had looked at him from the corner of her eye, and though he could hear Ruby spewing the local horror story about him to a concerned Emma, he had also noted the slight tilt of Belle's lips. She might seem to be unaware of what was going on, but he had learned back in the Dark Castle that, just because Belle was looking at the pages of a book, it did not necessarily mean she was reading, he smiled too.

So she was playing coy. Not bad. Calmly drinking his everyday tea brought by Ruby (who was eying him too warily for her and her grandmother's diner's own good), he settled into pretending he was reading the newspaper and not watching Regina's huntsman shamelessly flirt. His hands balled into fists. If that poor excuse for a slave ever laid a finger on his Belle, then...

But his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her voice, one octave lower than normal, ringing with a fake innocent tone he'd learned to recognize. "Oh, and Graham," she had said loudly. "My sister's single, in case you didn't notice."

He could not help it. He chuckled at the scene: the Sheriff running away with his tail betwen her legs and Emma scolding a giggling Belle was a sight to behold. The daughter of Snow White seemed set on glaring at anything that moved, making his Belle laugh harder (yes she was his, no matter what others might think, she would always be his in his mind). He wanted so much to approach her right then, to hear what the Savior was telling her that was making her laugh so hard, but calculating as he was, he decided it was enough for now.

He would have her back soon. He did not know how, but this time he was not planning on letting Belle slip through his fingers. Folding the newspaper (and leaving a very bad tip for Ruby), Mr Gold got up from his seat, shooting his true love one last surreptitious glance, and with a almost happy heart, Rumplestilskin headed to his pawn shop, very sure he would be having two very special visitors before the day was over.

After all, he smirked to himself, his Mr Gold persona had done at least one good thing before the Savior woke him up.

He had made sure Belle owed him something.

And he would not be himself if he did not twist that little debt to his advantage, wouldn't he?

* * *

Mary Margaret was a nice person, and, like Belle predicted, Emma seemed to like her already, although both of them agreed the woman was too nice for her own good. To use Emma's words, _Belle, don't you __think her backbone is missing somewhere_? although Belle had to remind Emma that "normal" people generally didn't have the kind of backbone building experiences they had had, or she had tried to. Emma being Emma, she had just shaken her off.

They were walking to the Sheriff station. By then, Mary Margaret had kindly pointed them in the direction of the nearest (one out of four) ATMs in town, after Ruby had gone and spilled about Belle's "tiny problem", much to the sisters embarassment. Funny how even Mary, in her whole Princess-Diana-hallowed-grace, had seen fit to warn them about Mr Gold "beastly" reputation. Henry's teacher, unlike Ruby, had not filled Emma's head with scary stories. Instead, she had just told her to help Belle pay the man in time and more or less be done with it before he could rope her into anything.

Henry, like the darling he was, had wanted to tag along, but a tip from Ruby about Regina approaching got Emma to stand up and drag Belle out of the diner before the Major had a chance to spot her and do something like throwing her into jail unfairly again.

"I'm telling you, Belle, Mary said she has the poor kid in therapy, it's ridiculous."

"Hey, what's wrong with going to a psycotherapist?" Belle snapped, sharply narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing, nothing's wrong with going to a shrink, not when you have serious issues," Emma backpedaled, "but the kid is ten, worse case he has is an overreactive imagination. It happens, all kids go through that phase one way or another."

"Maybe she's hiding something." Belle had opened her book once again, and was walking with Emma leading her by the elbow. Emma knew by experience that it did not mean she was not paying attention, and had come to terms long ago to talking to a reading Belle, so it did not bother her when Belle's eyes never left what she was doing. It never ceased to be unnerving though. "Maybe Regina doesn't want Henry to make anybody remember."

"Remember what? That they all are fairytale characters stuck in a time loop, in a town where nobody can leave?" Emma snorted.

"Maybe," came the offhanded reply from the reading brunette.

"That's the second most ridiculous thing I've heard," Emma said. She was going to be open-minded, but Rome was not built in a day, and though she loved both Henry and Belle, it was hard not to roll her eyes at this thing about the curse. "His theory sounds crazy even to me."

"Perhaps that's the point." Belle, again, did not look up from her book, making it look as though Emma had just asked a stupid question. Emma raised an eyebrow and stopped walking, seeing they were crossing a street, and Belle looked up to her with an amused look. "All I'm saying is that, it's logical." She shrugged again, as if it were obvious, making Emma feel she should know the answer. "If I were hiding a secret that big from everybody in town, wouldn't it be better if people thought the only person who knew the truth was crazy?"

Emma gasped, because Belle was right. It did sound logical. "Regina wouldn't do that to her own son."

Her friend's eyes were fixed on the street, and walking ahead of Emma to the next sidewalk, Belle turned her head and gave a tired chuckle. "You have no idea what people are willing to do for power, do you?"

Emma did not reply. She just followed Belle to the next street and fell into step with her, taking her elbow as her eyes went back to being engrossed in her book. Emma was a bit scared to answer, if she were being honest with herself, because, while crossing that street, suddenly, if only for a second, Emma had seen someone in Belle's eyes, for one tiny second. She had seen someone heartbroken, someone older, someone jaded... it was enough to make her wonder about what she had done to trigger that person.

Belle's head was something similar to Emma's. What people were willing to do for power... _what weren't they? _She closed her eyes and tried to follow that errant thought that seemed to come from the corner of the forgotten parts of her head, like a butterfly she could not catch. Belle thought again, asking to that voice in the back of her mind that had made her say the words to Emma. _Tell me, what are people willing to do for power?_

And then, like a image made of smoke, Belle could almost see it. _They ravage villages_, the voice whispered. Before her closed eyes she could see a old village from afar, burning. _They kill innocent people_. Faceless beings falling to the ground lifeless danced before her mind._ They hurt, they steal, they tear apart anything that stands in the way. _The images had begun flickering so fast that they were giving her whiplash. Not one face she could see, not one she could recognize. _You know what else people are willing to do for power, don't you_? the back of her mind taunted. Belle suddenly felt an ovewelming sense of sadness, because yes, somehow, she knew. "Push the people they love away," she replied in a whisper, not noticing she had spoken out loud untill Emma asked what she was talking about.

Snapping out of it, Belle shook her head. "It's nothing, Ems, just the book I'm reading, I must have read some lines out loud." Belle felt a tug at her mind again, prompting her not to lie, but seeing the concern already written over her friend's face, Belle knew she did not want to worry Emma unnecesarilly, or worse, give her false hope. Even when this was the closest thing she had gotten to an actual memory of her past, she knew in her heart she did not want to tell Emma. For some reason, she felt she needed to know more. She wanted to know more. Because the impression of her last thought had been so strong she knew it had to mean something.

"Now that we touched the topic," Emma mused out loud, "Belle, do you think you should start therapy again?"

Belle shook her head, immediately understanding by her eyes that Emma said it out of concern, not out of spite. Emma would never willfully say anything to hurt her. "Didn't you just say it was ridiculous?"

"Stop avoiding the question, you know what I mean," Emma snapped, but then softened her tone. "I know Dr Parker cleared you from needing adjustment therapy more than a year ago, but it's just that..."

"...you are concerned," Belle realized.

"Of course I am. When Dr Parker cleared you, I distinctly remember him saying that establishing a routine for you was important. Now, our routine of six years is practically null, and even I know there's a disturbance in the force." Emma did not hesitate with the Star Wars reference, fully aware it was a better way of getting Belle's attention. "You've made so much progress."

"Oh, Emma, I know this whole thing is big, but you don't have to worry about me," Belle tried to calm her down. Emma raised an eyebro.w "I know, I know, I've made progress, and I know this thing about moving here for the time being would unsettle the most un-amnesic of souls, but I am not going to have a sudden set back." Belle put her hand in Emma's shoulder. "I'm fine, really."

"Don't blame me for being wary, this thing would even have ME in therapy," Emma joked, trying to lighten the mood once she realized Belle was serious. "You sure you're okay?"

"I am, trust me, if I weren't, you'd be the first to know." They had reached the ATM by then, and Belle sighed unhappy as she took out her checkbook. "Here we go," she mumbled with a heavy heart, watching the total of how much money she had saved, and also watching it decrease when she made her withdrawal. That was it... goodbye Quebec.

Emma too took out money, having already promised Belle she'd give her half of what she owed Mr Gold. The two women stared at the money as Belle discreetly put it in a white envelope to avoid temptation. "This is it," Emma sighed, dejectedly. "Goodbye, big Thanksgiving turkey."

Belle nodded sadly. "Goodbye, new Suzanne Collins paperbacks."

"Goodbye, extra cristmas shopping."

"Adieu, Castell de Frontenac," Belle sighed in her Australian-accented French. "Now, I'll never see Canada."

"Or get me that expensive cashmere sweater I wanted to receive on Christmas."

"Or upgrade my Kindle."

They were starting to sound more and more depressing by the second, both too sad seeing how half of their savings were now about to vanish.

"We better get going, or else we'll be tempted to start bawling our woes here in the street."

"Maybe it was for the best. Maybe Quebec and I were not meant to be." Belle sighed dramatically, inwardly blaming herself for screwing up.

Emma sighed as well. Realizing what that tone meant, she decided to cheer her up and adopted her normal sarcastic posture. "Maybe the big turkey I was planning of buying for Thanksgiving wasn't meant to be with me either."

At this, Belle smiled. "He's probably better off without you."

"How dare you insult our non-existent relationship?" Belle was laughing now, clutching her sides with her hand to her mouth attempting to hide her giggles from the onlookers that passed them as they walked down the street. Seeing she had succesfully cheered Belle up, Emma continued passionately. "That turkey and I will be together, nothing shall keep us apart."

"Nothing except the butcher, I think." Belle snorted, finally laughing loudly at her friend's antics.

"Maybe you're right, he's probably better off without me. If I did succesfully have him for thanksgiving... I'd have to share him with YOU." Emma shrugged.

Belle laughed some more and settled for continuing their banter. "Forget about the turkey, he'd be the lucky one anyway."

Emma sighed, hooking her arm around Belle's. "We'd be lucky to find someplace to spend Thanksgiving either way."

"To think I wanted to try that cordon bleu recipe and fatten you up this year."

Emma heaved her eyes to the sky ."Lord bless the moments you don't spend in the kitchen."

"Hey." Belle poked at her side, untangling her arm and running ahead of her. "I'll have you know I am an amazing chef," she sang, skipping backwards.

Too late, Emma saw the man carrying the bucket of flowers step out of his truck, right in front of her backward walking friend. "Belle, watch out!"

Cringing, Emma closed her eyes at the inevitable collision, as the man and her friend crashed, making the heavy load of roses he was carrying scatter everywhere. Emma immediately rushed to help. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Belle's voice rung like a chime, petals of roses scattering all over her hair and clothes, but she did not care. With reflexes worthy of a cat, Belle rushed over to the fallen man. "I am so sorry sir."

_Papa? _

Belle suddenly felt the sting of a headache.

"It's Moe, no need for the sir part, girl."

For the second time in two days, she was recipent of a I've-seen-a-ghost look. Moe French could not help but think he knew the girl that had just knocked him over. That voice, he felt a pang of something when he heard her speak. Either way, it was enough for him not to get angry at the whole ordeal.

_I'm here, papa, can't you hear me? Please! _

Like hands pounding on the invisible wall the curse had erected, her headache began to intensify. "I am so very sorry, Moe," Belle continued to apologize. "I don't know what happened, normally I'm not this clueless, gosh why am I being this clueless?"

Moe shook his head, hearing her speak that way. "It was an accident, it happens to anybody."

_Please, please, I beg you Sophie, let me out!_

The headache pounded a little more. "It's been happening to me an awful lot lately." Belle sighed, running her hands through her hair, and offering her hand to pull him up from the ground, along with Emma.

_Let me out, let me out, don't stand there doing nothing!_

"So? You're having a bad streak. It'll get better." Moe shrugged, staring at the mess of roses in the floor. "You could help me pick up, though, that would certainly make my back feel better."

"Oh, of course, how silly of me, please, just stay where you are." Belle hurried, picking up the roses from the floor, making a mental note to be careful with them.

_Papa, what has happened to you?_

"I'll help," Emma offered, bending over and doing the same, putting the roses one by one back in the pail Moe had been carrying in the first place, although Emma was remarkably less delicate. They finished very fast.

"All done!" Belle said, happily putting the last one of the roses in the pail.

"We are still really sorry," Emma apologized. "If it weren't for me, she wouldn't have been distracted."

"Nah, it was nothing, just watch where you step next time. That way, I'm sure things might start looking up." Moe smiled with kindness, and Emma knew she'd seen that particular smile somewhere else, but while her subconcious tried to tell her it was Belle's same smile, her stubborness won out, and she ignored that tiny inkling. "Well, I better get these roses inside the shop, long day of work ahead, you know."

"Oh yes, of course, we better get going, too," Emma nodded, no need to impose on the poor man more than necessary. Belle seemed to be lost on one of those dazes she had been finding herself in, so Emma tugged her along.

They had been walking about a block when Belle herd Moe call her back, "Hey, girl, you forgot this," he said, waving a object in the distance. Belle immediately recognized her book, and rapidly left Emma to retrieve it.

"I'll be right back," Belle muttered, hurrying away back to the man she did not know was her father.

"Here, you must have dropped it when you were helping me pick up the flowers." Moe could have kept the book in his store, or better yet, returned it some other time when the brown-haired girl did not look so busy, but he felt in the back of his mind the need to tell her something important, because this strange girl that reminded him so much of a hazy something. "Phantom of the Opera, nice book," he mumbled at a loss for words.

Belle seemed to understand his discomfort, so she went along trying not to prolong his suffering. "It is, but I haven't read it yet, the plot is really interesting."

"Well, I might not know lots about books, but I'd say that judging by the cover, you have a nice taste," Moe chuckled, taking a yellow rose and placing it on her book, because, yes, the cover of her Phantom of the Opera paperback featured a white mask and a red rose, not unlike the yellow one Moe was giving her. "Good taste, girl, that's what I say, keep the rose and use it as a bookmark, some people say yellow brings luck."

"Thank you, it's so nice of you," Belle nodded with a smile. "And, by the way, I'm Sophie, just so you know."

"Sophie! Come on, get moving!" Emma called to her. Moe chuckled, and Belle waved, running back to Emma. The blonde just shook her head, and again wondered how it was that Belle managed to make friends just with the power of her smile. The man in the flower shop had even given her a flower. If Emma had to believe in crazy fairytale theories, then she would put her money on Belle being the princess, not her, because in her head, all the examples of princesses she knew (which admittedly was not much, given Disney's penchant to make her want to hit her head against a table), all princesses in the TV versions of fairytales she had seen had the disturbing tendency of singing and dancing and being happy all the time. Emma would wager Belle fit the bill, not in the singing and dancing part, but in the being happy all the time part.

"Emma, do you have a painkiller somewhere? My headache is getting stronger." Belle was not one to complain much, so this alerted Emma.

"No, I don't, are you feeling alright?"

"Just a headache."

_Let me out!_

The headache escalated. Belle flinched, and Emma raised an eyebrow. "OK, maybe the whole pulling an overnight caught up with me."

"That's it, Belle, you've been too weird since this morning. Maybe I was wrong in pulling you out of bed so early," Emma scolded. "You want to go back to our room and rest for a bit?"

Belle did not want to admit it, but yes, she wanted to rest. This thing, seeing Moe, this person she felt that should know her, left her mentally exhausted. That, coupled with the two hours of sleep she had got the past night, almost made her give in. "What about Mr Gold, and Henry and Regina... gosh I have to call my work in Boston!"

Emma sighed. "One, Henry and Regina are not your problem. Two, the infamous Mr Gold said he gave you untill this afternoon, right? And work, well, you can do that later, too."

"But-"

"No buts. You need sleep, or caffeine, but seeing you hate coffee, it's gotta be the first one." Emma glared. "And I'll have no excuses."

Belle smiled. This was Emma's way of taking care of her. She knew by experience that scolding and perhaps getting a bit too tough was Emma's way of showing she cared, so she decided to give in. A couple of hours of sleep would not hurt her...

* * *

**A/N: I HAD WRITER'S BLOCK. And I still do. I know you want Rumbelle. I do too, and I know I'm procastinating on their scenes, but bear with me, I'm blocked, and if I write those scenes blocked then they'll come out as a crappy mess. Hope you enjoyed a look into Mr Gold's character, I liked writing him in. Next chapter is pretty Rumbelle. Not exactly romantic, but, well, you never know... Also, next chapter, I'll be introducing Nealfire... Guys, I need to get back to school, this whole not being stuck up thing isn't working. I want to hear reviews telling me if you liked this chapter or if you hated it.. I don't know. Come on, press the button here below, you know you want to do it... pleaseeeee...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Ughhh, a decent keyboard at last. The university's professors are still in protests, which means I don't get to go to school, which means I don't get to borrow the computer lab for writing fanfiction/study, so I have to use my home computer. Try writing anything decent with three little brothers jumping on your bed and a mom going into your room every five minutes while you are both logged on in Facebook and watching OUAT reruns... **

**Yet it turns out stress is great for my creative process, so here we are, opening this week with a new outlook, a new haircut, and first and foremost, a new beta. Guys, say hello to Milarqui, or, as I like to dub him, the super-incredible-lifesaver. He's been helping me correct my previous chapters' horrifying mistakes *tears* (go check, most of them are now officially error free, and we might or might have not added a few more details to compliment it). I never thought I'd see the day when someone would take pity on me.**

**Now, onto the disclaimer: I don't own the Once Upon a Time franchise, ABC network or any of it's associates, Else I would have totally omitted Lacey's existence on season two, I MEAN IT, she's way too much of a jerk. Who in the world wants a second incarnation of young Cora? **

**Chapter eleven: Forget me not**

Belle went to sleep. She was really tired, and perhaps her headache would get better. She was sure Emma was worried, but she sighed and dismissed her friend's worries as nothing more than Emma being paranoid. She was fine, she didn't need to start therapy again, no matter what Emma thought. She didn't need to be worried, Belle thought herself very content, and sane.

She had become a normal citizen, the doctors had said so, they had said there was not reason why she should not attempt to build a new life. Sure, it had been hard but she was fine. She had Emma, she had hobbys, and until recently a job she loved.

She was content.

"Who am I fooling?" Belle sighed, with her hand reaching for the forget-me-not charm in her necklace. "Content is not happy." Too tired to give it more thought, she fell asleep.

This time, however, her dreams were not as they usually were. Normally, she'd dream of things and people and figures. In the worst case, she would have nightmares. But that day, Belle's dream dug out a memory, a memory she'd never found relevant, of one of her visits to New York, but maybe she should have...

* * *

_Manhattan, Two years before._

New York in April had to be the most rainy place on earth, or at least it seemed like that to Belle, who'd just come from visiting Dr Wei in his new clinic at upstate Manhatan. Pennsylvania, while close to New York, sometimes seemed like a different world altogether. Considering that she was getting used to Philladelphia's carefree mood, she felt a bit betrayed when Dr Wei, her shrink, had told her he was moving to Manhattan to start his own private clinic.

Belle liked Dr Wei. He was one of those few shrinks who actually seemed like a good person outside of work. He and his wife had helped her get a job as a receptionist at the local community college, and seemed to genuinely care about how she was getting by. That was why she was so sad to learn he could no longer continue their sessions.

When he had asked her to come to the clinic's opening, she had had to agree. Of course, she had seen other of his patients there, and Mrs Wei had been happy to see her too, but now that Dr Wei was not going to be her regular doctor, Belle felt disappointed. Maybe it was time to move on from Philly to some other state and start anew.

The rain was beginning to pour stronger, and Belle clutched her umbrella tighter. _For heaven's sake, who knew Manhattan could be so...wet_, she thought.

Thanking heavens she had opted to wear pants with a long sleeved top instead of the dress Emma had suggested, she walked a bit faster down Main Street and searched for a random store to take shelter from the rain. Lord knew wearing a dress in this weather would have been a disaster.

A man walking in front of her veered to a store on his left, and taking advantage of the fact he was holding the door, Belle rapidly closed her umbrella and followed suit.

"Ah, a pretty lady, come on in," a voice said as soon as she entered the store, which Belle soon came to realize was some sort of antique machine repair shop, judging by the older-than-merlin radios and parafernalia in the shelves, and the vintage grandfather clock the store clerk seemed to be working on.

He was a smiling Indian man, no older than sixty, that chuckled at Belle's curious expression as she looked around. "You like something there pretty lady?"

Belle blushed at the compliment. "No, sir, just looking."

The man laughed, knowing the pretty woman that just entered his business was probably on the run from the rain, and not really interested in anything she saw ."Well, look at anything you want blondie, just don't touch anything, yah?"

Belle stiffened. This thing about dying her hair blonde for their fresh start in Philly was starting to become a problem. Now, everywhere she went, people either called her blondie, or assumed she was a ditz. Maybe it was just to her that these things happened to, Emma never seemed to be followed by the "blonde" jokes and catcalls that made her want to bury her head somewhere. "I promise I won't touch anything," Belle replied, observing an old Singer sewing machine that stood on one of the shelves. It was twice the size of a modern one, and had knots and metal fastenings that made her head whirl as she tried to imagine where they where supposed to go.

"That one is a Singer model 66. It may have originally been a treadle machine, but it is no longer. We, however, are working on restoring it to it's original greatness." Belle turned around to find a man standing next to her. Tall, brown haired and with rugged features. Cocking her head to the side in a questioning motion, the man chuckled. "I'm Neal. I work here and my boss up there said I should come over and help."

"Oh, but I don't need help, I told him I wasn't going to buy anything." Her voice shook, but she didn't know why.

"Just humor me a bit will you? He's got a problem in his head, always trying to find me a gal."

Belle laughed, shaking her head. "I think he'll be dissapointed to know I don't live in Manhattan."

"And I wasn't saying the opposite, I just asked you to humor me." After all, the last thing Neal needed was to get involved with another spirited blonde. "I don't want to go back to filing inventory, and you here is a good excuse as any."

"Smart," Belle pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "And a little devious too. I'm Sophie, by the way." Neal saw that she had a pretty smile, and gosh how he wanted to be another man, one who wasn't so hung up on his first love that all the blonde girls he saw reminded him of her.

"Well, Sophie, as you see here," he took a old radio from the shelf, making motions for his boss to see, "this is a Philco Model 41-221 and may I say I worked personally in this one. The dials here, they were almost destroyed.." He continued listing what he had done while Belle listened intently, always curious and always eager to learn more about history, nodding and saying "ahh" at the right times.

Suddenly, Belle noticed the satisfied look Neal's boss was giving them. "I think your boss might be getting the wrong idea," she whispered to her new friend and Neal grunted.

"He's a scheming old lady, that's what he is."

Belle laughed, and then continued to ask question after question about the restoration projects around the store. Neal felt bad, because for some reason her hair was the exact shade of Emma's, but Sophie wasn't Emma. She was a woman, a nice woman his age that smiled and had pretty eyes, and if he where another man he would ask her out, because she was smart and looked genuinely interested in what he was doing. He should be attracted to someone like her, any normal man would be, but Neal could not, because he still saw Emma in his dreams. He was still stupidly in love with her, and even if she was better off and very probably hated his guts for what he did, he could not get Emma out of his system.

What was it with him, that he could not be normal? Well, considering what he had gone through as a child, normalcy was not something he expected to have, but he at least thought he would be able to move on from Emma and find some peace, yet here he was, talking to a girl who was nice and pretty, but could not bring himself to ask her out for a drink because her hair was the same color of his first love.

_Just say it, Neal, tell her you'll buy her a coffee_, he thought, but he could not bring himself to do it, so he just continued talking and telling her about the antiques he had helped restore. If he was being honest with himself, there was something immensely familiar with Sophie, but he could not put his finger on it.

"So, if you like antiques so much, why not work at a jewelry store?" Belle asked after he had finished relating something about one of the pieces in the stands.

"Well, for one, no self-respecting jeweler would hire me, looking as shady as I do," he tried to joke. "And two, I like it here, while I don't get to be looking at gems and telling if they're real, it's a job I like."

"Hmm, might be the right choice then. But you know a lot about antiques, right?"

Neal nodded. "I've worked with antique dealers in the past," well it was one way of putting it, not that he could ever put Rumplestiskin and Capitain Hook as references in his resumé, "so I know a lot about the job in hindsight."

"So, hypothetically, if I showed you an old vintage ring right now, you could tell me where it came from?" Belle's heart sped up. Maybe Neal could help her with something.

"Not on sight, it all depends on what type it is, if it has markings or telltale signs of its origin." Neal saw her face and had to ask. "Why? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, it's just..." Belle debated whether to trust this stranger she had just met, but they were in a store with security cameras. There wasn't much he could do, right? "I have this necklace, it's sort of rare," she began, unsure. Neal nodded. "The thing is that I've taken it to a lot of jewelers, but none of them can track where it came from."

"Let me take a look at it, then. I can't say anything for sure, but at least I can try to see if somebody missed something." Neal watched Belle's face scrunch up in distrust, but then she sighed and nodded.

Reaching under the collar of her top, Belle pulled out the thin gold chain with the forget-me-not charm. "I... I had an accident, a few years back, fell down a hiking trail or something," Belle stuttered, fiddling with the chain, a part of her that sounded disturbingly like Emma berating her for telling these things to a total stranger. "I don't remember what happened before, or how I got there. I don't remember anything. All I know is that I found this in the pocket of my jeans, the jeans I was wearing the night I was rescued I mean," she explained, starting to babble. "I don't know where it came from, I mean, I don't even like forget-me-nots, I like roses more, and the jewelers can't tell me where it comes from, early renaissance was the closest thing one could tell me, but I want to know, because I have this feeling somebody wanted me to remember something," she mumbled, "and look at the chain, it's as thin as..."

"Spun gold," Neal gasped, horrified. Golden thread so thin it could fit through a needle's eye was something one did not forget, not in ten lifetimes, not when the only person capable of producing it was one's own father. Neal had sworn to himself he would leave the memories of the Enchanted Forest behind, of his father. He had done it again after August had made him leave Emma, but that golden cord around Sophie's pale neck wasn't a chain, he could tell, and he cursed himself for that. It was thread, thread as thin as spun from a spindle.

"It does look like thread, doesn't it?" Belle whispered, wondering why Neal had become so _en garde_ all of the sudden. "You know what is the strangest thing?" she continued, pulling the necklace off from over her head and pointing to the smooth flow of the string. "It doesn't even have a clasp, not even a hitch to indicate where the two ends were fused together."

Of course there would not be a hitch if it was joined with magic. Neal was trying, struggling to keep a straight face. His boss was watching, and so far she had been truthful. Her tone lacked any deviousness or malice: she was an innocent, he reminded himself. Nevertheless, there was no way to be sure. "You said nobody has been able to tell you where it came from?" he asked, fighting for composture.

But she noticed anyway. "Neal, is everything okay? I'm so sorry, what did I do now?"

He saw he had hurt her, and tried to be more sensible. "I was trying to say that it looks rare, and I can't tell where that necklace comes from," Neal lied. "Please, don't get offended."

Belle was wary, since he still had that guarded expression in his eyes. "It's fine, I guess." She sighed. "I guess I just have to keep looking." Neal did not say anything, his mind whirling with too many possibilities, none of which he liked. He was interrupted, however, by the chime of her voice. "Look, the rain stopped." She pointed outside and looked at her wristwatch. "Crap, I was supposed to be on the way to Philly half an hour ago, I am so going to get fired."

"You live in Philladelphia?" Neal could not help it, he was curious. Despite evidence telling him that he should let her go, he was intrigued.

"Not for long if my sister has her way," Belle said, putting her necklace back on. "You New Yorkers have the worst traffic I've seen in years."

"I guess it's the first time you visit the Big Apple." Neal chuckled.

Belle nodded, stressed. "Yeah, and I see why Emma doesn't want to move here, this place sucks," she said, heading to the door in a hurry.

Neal's throat went dry. "Emma?" His eyes were wide, but Belle, in her hurry, did not notice his change.

"Yes, my sister," Belle replied, nonchalant and giving him a smile. "It was nice meeting you, Neal."

Neal had nodded in agreement, too afraid to speak, and with that Belle breezed out of the door and into the Manhattan traffic.

Not knowing, nor remebering, not forgetting.

If only she had known he was so much more than "just a guy" she met in Manhattan, if only she had known how close he was connected to the most important people in her life: Emma's first love, Rumplestilskin's son, the boy whose clothes she had once held in her hands. But Belle had no way of knowing, and neither had Neal.

* * *

Belle woke up with a startled scream. She was being shaken awake by Henry. _Wait a minute, how did Henry get into my room?_ Then she remembered she was in Storybrooke. Shaking herself out of the dream, Belle sighed. She didn't know why she had dreamed of the memory of that particular day. It was probably a random thing, she mused to herself. After all, she had met tons of people in similar random situations over the years. Emma liked to tease her about the fact she had a gift of making friends wherever she went. Speaking of Emma... "Where's Emma?"

Henry pointed to his left, where his birth mom stood up with her camera at face height.

"You didn't," Belle said, narrowing her eyes at the camera.

"She did." Henry giggled and Emma sent her a vindicated grin.

"I told you I was going to get even," her friend said, patting the camera. "Now get up, before a photo of you sleeping with your mouth open and drool over your face ends up in the internet."

"Very mature, Emma." Her friend narrowed her eyes. "How long was I out?" Belle asked stretching, feeling as though she'd slept a lifetime. Emma, satisfied she didn't look as worn out as before, pointed to her watch.

"About five hours."

"You mean, it's afternoon already?" Belle got up and looked at Henry, raising an eyebrow. "You guys did anything I need to know?"

"Other than pissing his mom off and having a friendly chat with Archie? No," Emma replied before Henry could get a word in.

"Emma said you got in trouble with Mr Gold. Is that true, Sophie?" Henry asked curiously. Belle nodded, defeated, but her small friend, unlike everybody else in town, didn't feed her any bad news.

Henry looked at his mother. "Does this mean I have to go home?"

"Afraid so, kid," Emma, who so far had been having a heavy day, was a little bit glad to be given this tiny break. She turned to Belle. "Get up and moving, sleeping beauty, I was afraid you'd slip into a coma the way you were sleeping there."

"Ha, ha, very funny." Belle looked down at her wrinkled sweatpants and decided she was going to need to change.

Half an hour later, give or take, Belle took the envelope with the money and headed to Mr Gold's pawn shop with Emma, who had insisted on going with her. While they walked, Belle made a joke about Emma and Graham, causing a full blown banter to ensue. Fifteen minutes later, when they reached the pawnshop, they were still at it.

"All I'm saying is, you need to get rid of all the tension" Belle kept saying.

"And all I'm saying is you need to stop focusing on me and find yourself someone to have sex with!" Emma snapped, ready to strangle her.

"Good afternoon to you both too." Mr Gold's Scottish brogue reached them at the same time. He was smirking, coming out from behind a curtain so well placed in the back of the shop you couldn't see there was a room there. This made both Emma and Belle wish the earth would open up to swallow them, realizing he had been behind the curtain the whole time, and probably heard Emma's last statement.

Belle went red from head to toe, and shot a very angry look at Emma, who was wishing she could turn around, leave Belle to her own devices and hide. "Hi, Mr Gold" Belle chirped with a very nervous tone.

He chuckled as the Savior once again took charge and snapped out of it. "We came to give you the money for the car thing." Emma leveled him with one of her don't-mess-with-me stares, once again subtly shielding Belle from Gold's view, her protective instinct flaring full force, and she took the envelope out of Belle's hand to put it on the counter. "It's all there." She just knew she wanted to get Belle out of that creepy pawn shop, and the sooner the better.

"Ah, but, miss Swan, there seems to be a mistake here," the man said with a rather sardonic voice. "I seem to recall my buisness wasn't with you, but with miss Reed." Mr Gold watched as Emma's rigid posture got more protective as he pointed at Belle.

_Let me out! _Again, Belle felt the headache's jab, hard at her skull.

"Well, too bad, you got two for one," Emma snapped. She did not like what he was implying, Mr Gold was about to reply but Belle stopped him.

"Emma," Belle spoke softly, putting a hand in her arm, "he's right."

"If you think I'm leaving you to do this alone you are crazy," Emma hissed, but Belle shook her head.

"You said it yesterday, sometimes we need to do things without each other." She was smiling in resignation. Belle knew Emma, and while she appreciated the backup, she felt a strange sense of deja vu at the whole setting.

"Look, it's not that I don't trust you or anything," Emma tried to explain, then she turned to Mr Gold. "The person I don't trust is YOU."

Had it been another person, he would have been flattered. After all, Rumplestiltskin made a living out of the people who didn't trust him, but were forced to make deals with him anyway. However, in this case, the victory was bittersweet. "It doesn't matter if you trust me or not, what matters is that you are wasting my time," he snapped.

"Emma, it's okay, go," Belle said. Emma, who still was feeling very protective, shook her head stubbornly.

"Excuse me, would you give us a sec?" she asked Mr Gold, pulling Belle aside where he could not hear them. "Look, people in town have been telling me pretty nasty stuff about this man, and bear with me here, I don't want to leave you alone to deal with him."

"Not everything people say is the truth Emma. What do I always say about giving people a chance?"

"See!" Emma huffed. "This is exactly why I don't want to leave you alone, because you are you and you believe that everybody has good in them, and you go around thinking the best of people, because that's just who you are," she continued, illustrating her point. "And most of the time people prove you right, but when they don't I get to be the one watching your face fall in disappointment whenever you think of that person, so no, I am not going to leave and just let you be you because being you is what often gets you in trouble in the first place."

"OK, my head hurts," _literally and figuratively_. Belle saw Emma's raised eyebrow "Fine, I know I can be a bit naïve sometimes, but trust me on this, please, I got a feeling things will turn out okay. What if he hears me out and changes his mind about taking my licence?"

"What if he doesn't?"

"Then I'll face the consequences, just like I've done before and you'll get to say I told you so."

"But I won't be happy when it happens," Emma continued to fight.

"Emma, look at me," Belle said with finality, her blue eyes flashing with determination. "No one decides my fate but me." The deja vu feeling intensified. "Now, I'm asking you to let me take care of my own problems, because I love you, but right now you are being overbearing."

Finally seeing she wasn't going to win this, Emma raised the white flag. "Fine! But if you end up signing away your soul or beaten by a cane, it's on you."

"Beaten by a cane?" Belle snorted.

"Ruby told me Sydney Glass got into trouble with him a while ago and had to spend the weekend in the hospital."

"Emma!" Belle hissed. "Shame on you for listening to gossip. Who are you and what have you done with my bestie?"

"Just looking out for you," Emma sighed and raised her hands in surrender. "I'm going, I'm going." She let Belle's arm go.

"I'll meet you up at Granny's in half an hour, okay?" Belle said, no longer talking in hushed tones.

"I still think this is a bad idea," Emma directed her comment at Mr Gold, who tried not to smile. At that moment, the Savior could not have been more alike to her father. If it were not for the fact that she was actively trying to keep Belle away from him, he would have been a little more impressed. "Call me as soon as this is over, OK?" she said to Belle, then she turned to leave, not before sending Mr Gold a don't-mess-with-me glare for good measure.

Belle chuckled. "Sorry about that, she's not normally this overprotective," she said, turning to Mr Gold like nothing happened, and smiled.

"It did not seem that way at all." Mr Gold was happy to see Belle. Of course, having rid himself of Emma, he found that he was at a loss of what to say to his former true love. "I assume it's because my reputation precedes me."

Belle shook her head. "She means well." Then she sighed and looked at him. "Too bad I rarely listen to her."

Mr Gold could see the genuine care in her eyes, and had to ask. "She cares about you quite a lot, and yet you seem uncomfortable with her. I wonder why is that."

"She's the only thing I have in the world, I just don't like her to worry so much," Belle explained, looking out in the door's direction.

"And yet you worry about her. Tell me, Miss Reed, are you two really related?"

Belle's demeanor changed immediately as her head whipped around to look into Mr Gold's eyes. "I think this conversation is over," she said with more force than intended, knowing she was a very bad liar, so the only way out of it was by not answering the question.

"So you are not! Fascinating." He knew that already, he knew much more about her than she guessed. He just wanted to probe, see to what extent he could push, but obviously he had asked the wrong question, because once again Belle had become defensive.

"I thought I was here to figure out how to pay my debt painlessly," Belle shot back, her blue eyes flashing, "not to talk about my personal life."

"I wonder why you are so defensive about it? I only asked a simple question."

"Right." Belle tried to remember what her therapist had said. She tried to calm down. This man did not know she hated these type of questions, he did not know she did not like hearing how people questioned why Emma and her stuck together so much- "I'm sorry, please, I apologize. I just don't like being asked personal questions when I'm paying a bill."

"Speaking of, I see you honored your part of the deal," he pretended to open the envelope laid in the counter and peruse its contents. "Not a single cent missing, impressive."

"I don't make a habit of breaking my promises," Belle told him straight on. "I said I would have the exact amount by the afternoon, didn't I?"

Remembering their first meeting, Mr Gold rifled behind the counter trying not to look at her. The truth was that, after believing her dead for so long, talking to a blank-slate version of his Belle, regardless of the curse, was something that was turning more difficult by the hour. "Miss Reed, I realize we may have started off with the wrong foot. Yesterday I wasn't in the greatest of moods, and I'm afraid you might have been given a bad first impression of me."

Belle narrowed her eyes, a tiny smile playing in her face. "So, you are not a grouch of a man who makes his living terrorizing and intimidating his peers all while sitting back in a chair and enjoying the show?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm torn between wondering if you are that good judge of character or if you have been listening to what people say about me on the street." He looked at her with newfound interest. Apparently, the curse had not taken away Belle's wit.

"A little of both, but then again that's not all you are is it?" Belle shrugged, trying to pretend she wasn't intrigued by his tender tone too.

"What makes you think that Miss Reed? For all you know, I could be planning murder and the town would be none the wiser." Ironically, he WAS planning a murder. Regina's to be exact. Perhaps sometime in the future when the curse was broken.

Belle, who by default was the kind of person who did not lie, cocked her head to the side. "Your eyes," she said, intrigued. "People say eyes are windows, but yours are shuttered close."

Taken aback by her very honest statement, and not wanting to get his hopes up, he decided to change the subject. "Tell me, Miss Reed, do you plan on staying in Storybrooke for long?"

"Odds are I will be staying." Belle knew he had changed the subject on purpose, but she said nothing. "Depends on what Emma wants. if she decides she wants to leave, I'll go with her."

"Ah, but Miss Swan has young Henry here. I highly doubt she'll want to leave anytime soon."

"Me too." Belle could not help but smile. "It's the first time I've seen her this happy."

"I suppose then that the money you just gave me would have been used to make your stay more comfortable?" He sounded regretful, and Belle had the instictive urge to soothe him.

"It's alright. Sure, we both could have used the money, but Emma and I, we'll get by." Belle did not like to be pitied. She did not exactly have pride, it was more of a long buried royal instinct that made her want others not to see the things she went through. "We have done it before and we can do it again, Mr Gold."

Instead of calming him, she made Mr Gold feel more regretful. What had his Belle gone through in this new land? "I see why your sister was in less than a amiable mood."

"I feel bad for having screwed up, especially for being a burden to Emma," Belle finally admitted, giving Mr Gold the opening he needed. That tiny weakness he could exploit (what could he say, he was a selfish man). "Emma was planning on doing this bunch of updates to our apartment back at Boston for Thanksgiving." Shaking her head, she sighed bitterly. "Not that there's a chance anything like that is going to happen now."

Mr Gold tried not to smile at the plan that had opened in his head. "In that case, what if I offered you a deal?"

Belle's eyes snapped alert. She knew she had heard him say something like that before. Damn it, why did her head hurt so freaking much? "What type of deal?" Her mind flashed back to Emma's "cane" warning, and she looked at it suspiciously. The man either didn't notice or didn't care.

"See, I'm in need of a little help with my various businesses," he motioned to the items around the shop. He was not going to say he needed someone to work there, because that would be a blatant lie. Nobody in Storybrooke ever bought anything from his pawnshop, usually it was the other way around, they came to pawn things off. "Yet, as you may have heard, I am not a very patient man."

Belle chuckled. From what she had heard from Ruby and Mary Margaret, that was an understatement. "You want me to work for you? Why?" she asked with suspicion.

"The truth is I don't know a soul in Storybrooke who would be willing to take the job," he replied easily enough. "Here is what I propose. Work for me for a month or two, enough time to pay off what Mr Zimmer is doing to my car, and I'll let you have your money back." He then smiled that devilishly creepy smile that made Belle shudder when she met him. "I'm sure your sister will appreciate having the extra money to support yourselves while she is jobless."

Belle knew he had her when he mentioned Emma. Of course, in this little town nobody needed a bail bondsperson. Belle had her job, but considering she wasn't planning on going back to Boston, she might as well be jobless too. The money both of them had left would last for another week or two, three weeks at best. Emma might not accept it yet, but soon both of them would be house hunting yet again, and how would either of them pay the first month? They had gone through this a couple of times in the past. Normally Belle would end up pleading with her puppy dog face to a nice landlord and they would get a reasonable extension, but this was different because of Henry, who needed Emma to put up a resposable front. Belle had to admit that Mr Gold's offer sounded good. If she took it, not only would Emma have more time to look for a job, but they would be able to afford to start searching for a permanent place to stay and start shipping their things from Boston.

"Can... can I think about it?" she said instead, because her heart was hammering in her chest, and something both told her to take and refuse the deal. "I think I have to call my old job in Boston first," she lied. Emma was going to kill her, actually Emma was going to tell her "hell no Belle" when she learned about this, and then they were probably going to have a fight which Emma would win and... yeah it seemed like a good idea to consult Emma first before the shi hit the fan.

"Of course, dearie," Mr Gold answered, smiling with a tiny bit of smugness in his voice. "Think about it tonight and we will see in the morning."

Again, like in their first meeting he had put the timelines, and Belle, who had been used to a little control over her things, couldn't help but think it was not fair. "Fine," she mumbled, exasperated.

"In the meantime, I'll keep this," Mr Gold said, holding the white envelope with the money up in the air. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go put it in a safe place," he said, limping out to the back room and leaving Belle alone to ponder her thoughts.

Belle thanked heavens for the respite. She had too much to thinking about, a big headache that wouldn't stop, and a fight with Emma to look forward to. Yay for her. And, like always, curiosity decided to make its appearance at the most innapropiate of times as Belle began walking around the shop filled with curious knick knacks.

There was a beautiful cristal mobile in the corner that spiked Belle's curiousity at the craftmanship. There were toys and clocks and artwork Belle could only deduce were priceless. There was even a Monet in the wall that, in Belle's opinion was either the real deal or a very accurate copy. She peroused everything like a child in a museum. Some things she saw made her headache grow (like the dark ages era bow and arrows that hung on one of the shelves), while others like the creepy puppets in the front only gave her head a passing pinch of pain.

Then, delighted, Belle saw an entire glass cabinet next to the toy shelves, dedicated entirely to a collection of various porcelain tea sets. She tried not to smile: Belle had always liked tea, she considered it comforting, and when she had the chance to actually drink it from a teacup with saucers she felt lucky, it had been like that since long before she could remember, one of those things her mind did not know but her body recognized.

Her eyes were drawn, however to a particular set, a white porcelain collection with blue flowers on the edge. She was almost sure she had seen it somewhere, but that was not the thought that seemed to strike her out of nowhere. _It's missing something,_ she realized, not knowing she had spoken out loud until Mr Gold appeared behind her.

"And what do you think is missing, Miss Reed?" he asked, feeling even in his non magical body the edges of the curse cracking.

Belle did not know what part of the tea set was missing. All she know was that it was... "A cup," her lips said instead, and suddenly she knew it was true. Three cups in the set with the teapot, only three. There was a cup missing. "The fourth one is missing."

"Well, if you really need to know, that tea set used to belong to me. The fourth cup you see missing there, I keep it at home." Something akin to recognition flashed in Belle's eyes, but as soon at it came, it was gone.

"Why?" she asked, curiously. "Why keep it at home?"

"Why do you care so much? It's just a cup," he snapped, because he had her so close, looking and sounding too much like her old self, but if he did something drastic now he knew he would scare her and he didn't want to, so he was frustrated with himself.

His words jogged Belle's memories. _All you'll have left is a broken heart and a chipped cup. _"It's not just a cup!" she heard herself shooting back, trying to hold on to that small memory he had just triggered, but as soon as she tried to reach it, it was gone. Going with what her heart told her, she softened her tone. "It means something for you," she probed. "That's why you won't put it with the others."

He had heard her tone rise. Good, but what did it mean for them? "As a matter of fact, yes." He decided to tell her the truth, halfway at least. "It reminds me of someone I lost a long time ago. Now, will you stop with the questions, Miss Reed?" He looked at the clock and sighed in relief: he needed to be away from her or else he would explode. "I believe you promised Miss Swan to meet her, didn't you?"

Belle had been so concentrated in the tea set that she had not noticed the time. "Oh right, Emma, I need to tell her."

"Better not keep her waiting then, dearie."

Belle nodded, feeling a little more sad than she should be about leaving. Stopping in her tracks, she turned around, and looked at the pawn broker, an idea in her mind. "Mr Gold, if I come back tomorrow," she asked, proposing an invisible wager, "will you tell me the story?"

Rumplestilskin was briefly reminded of their last deal, but shook it out. "What story?"

"The one of the missing cup."

"Perhaps," he tried not to smile. "Just perhaps."

**This is one of those chapters where I reach all the goals in my head. This chapter is twice longer than a normal one, and I should have stopped on the Nealfire dream, but, well I was feeling decidedly unblocked and worked swiftly as a country song, so guys, comment. Neal is still in love with Emma and living in the Big Apple, and see how he briefly considered asking his unnofficial stepmother out? How strange would that have been? Belle is feeling the deja vu stronger than ever, and those little headaches? They might be a hint of the curse breaking in her. Did you guys catch how many references to Skin Deep I made today? Must be some kind of record. Now about the "you need to have sex" comment on Emma's part, I couldn't resist, I had to make Gold hear it. There was no way he wasn't hearing it, it was my favorite part to write. Those who wanted Rumbelle I delivered. Just remember I'm not that big on romantic scenes, so it was a struggle. Now all the fans, who votes for Belle to take the deal? (lol me) But we don't know what she's going to do in the end.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi peeps, Wandering princess here reporting (finally!) after a three-week long absence. These past days have not been easy for me. I'm having to pull all nighters for tests that teachers threaten us with only to not follow through in the last-minute when the entire college goes on strike. I've been screamed at, yelled at, aimed at with shoes, gossiped about and accused of being a lazy bum by my own mother.**

**But, with the protests, and my school closing for the time being, I have finally way too much free time and not enough things to fill it with, which is why this chapter is about 17 pages long (odt file).**

**Anyway, guys, just know that I have not written because I have not been in the best of moods. By the way, thanks to dear Milarqui (the best beta in the world!) for giving me a shout out in his story "Awakening" (go read it, it's great and promises a lot of good things!), and reminding me I've got a fanfic that's waiting for me, and that, unless I snap out of it and write, nobody is going to be happy. **

**So, this chapter, much like my life lately, is a series of unconnected random yet important events that just have to happen. The reason it is looking more like a sliced pizza of scenes, than a concrete chapter is because I kept writing and stopping again and again. So, this is it. This is where I tie all those scenes together hoping it actually sounds cohesive to you all. Forgive me for any mistakes, I'm trying to stay true to both myself and the laws of pseudo-canon.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything, I wish I did, though.**

**Milarqui, thanks for the faith! This chapter is dedicated to you, my super heroic beta. **

**Chapter twelve: Queens and princesses... sort of **

Emma Swan was not a happy woman. She had just left Belle in that pawn shop, with a man she had been told more horror stories about than the boogeyman. Belle, who had a disturbing tendency to see the good side to every disaster/tragedy/crappy news she came across, and that guy who gave her the creeps. Involuntarily, Emma bunched up her fists.

She had regretted leaving her friend as soon as the brunette was out of sight, but, did she ever get a say in what Belle did or did not do when she had her mind set? Of course not.

But, then again, that was only part of the reason why she was currently pouring a shot of whiskey in her cocoa. Emma did not, by law, drink before seven pm on a work day, but her current state of mind warranted the extra liquid strength.

Emma's day had been less than stellar, needless to say, with Belle acting out of character, Henry getting ideas (that were starting to sound disturbingly possible) in her head about magic, this town that did not even have a Starbucks...

And then, to top it all, there was Regina, of course.

Regina, Regina, Regina. What was up with that woman? That scheming sociopath had everyone in the darn small town under her finger (or paycheck if what happened with Archie gave any hint) and had apparently taken upon herself to make sure Emma's wish to murder her grew.

That morning, the mayor had accosted Emma (in the street), not long after Belle left, with a basket of apples and a thinly veiled get-out-or-die threat. Emma had scoffed, of course, but what sent all the alarms ring in her head ringing where the mountain of honey crisp monstrosities Regina had presented as a "peace-offering".

What little to no people in the world knew was that Emma Swan was allergic to apples.

Of course, Regina had no way of knowing of how, during an ill-fated New Orléans Mardi Gras Emma suffered food poisoning and had been allergic to the devil-sent fruit ever since (in hindsight, gorging herself on free candy apples after a breakup had probably not been a good idea).

Anyway, Regina's offer sparked a bit of her paranoid edge. Emma hated apples! The taste, the color, especially the smell (it went so far that Belle herself never bought apple-scented candles for Christmas). Before that Mardi Gras, she tolerated apples just fine, but now, she shuddered just when she remembered what it could do to her. The burning feeling in her throat, the itching all over her skin, ending with blisters appearing on her face and the red hives extending from her arms to the rest of her body (at least, she did not swell up like a balloon, like people allergic to nuts did). Nevertheless, Emma knew all it took was a bit of anything that had apple, and she would end up looking like an itchy, swollen and blistery chicken pox victim.

Of course, Emma did not tell Regina that when she eyed the basket with a disgusted face. She just told the mayor/queen that she "_did not particularly care for the taste_", and had promptly proceeded to dump the entire basked in the nearest waste bin (quite badass if she could say so), rubbing it into Regina's face after she had all but threatened Emma with death if she did not leave the town. To her, Regina's annoyance was just a bonus.

Then, there was Archie. Emma had gone to talk to him after her conversation with Regina, but, instead of talking about Henry like the good psychologist (and queen) had predicted, she went to talk to him about Belle. Because, calm reassurance or not, she was still a bit worried about her, and Emma hated feeling she could not help Belle if she had a relapse.

Archie had sounded way too surprised, making Emma put her guard up at once, but deciding first came first. Emma got in a lengthy talk with Dr Hopper about Belle, telling him her friend had been in a "car" accident some time before. She fed him a few white lies to explain any discrepancies, and confided, like a concerned friend, how Belle had been acting strangely dazed lately. She also told him that her last doctor had warned them both to be on the look out for a relapse, but, in the end, when Archie assured her Belle's strange moods were nothing to worry about and that she should not push her, Emma had breathed in relief.

That was until she asked him why he had been so surprised she wanted to talk about Belle. Almost as though he had expected to talk about something else. "Henry, for example," she had murmured with a glare.

Sure, Archie had not fessed up, but Emma was not stupid. One only needed to connect the dots and there it was, Regina's dark seal on the whole ordeal. What a piece of work that woman was.

As if she would try to discuss Henry with Archie: when your closest friend spends so much time jumping from one doctor to another, the phrase "thou shall not discuss your loved one's sessions with his/her doctor" takes on a new meaning.

Belle's favorite shrink had once explained that patients sometimes said and did things in their sessions they did not want the people they loved to know, and that if a doctor that knew Belle outside the office his diagnosis was prone to be tainted with his personal opinions. It was not a bad thing, he just warned her that patient/doctor confidentiality was there for a reason, and should she know anything important, then Belle herself would be most likely to tell her. Ever since, Emma had known not to talk to Belle's doctors unless he or she specifically requested to have said talk.

Besides, what was the point in talking to Archie when she knew Henry was not crazy? Confused and imaginative, sure, but not crazy.

"A penny for your thoughts?" a voice said, breaking her out of her reverie. Emma's tired eyes focused on Graham's face, once again coming to sit across her booth in Granny's.

"Just thinking, that's all," she sighed wearily, not really up to having a verbal sparring match. _Why is he here? Why is he ignoring the whole moody vibe she was giving out? Please, Graham, just leave, I do not want to do this right now._

Graham seemed to catch on pretty fast on her mood, because he nodded. "That's some pretty hard thinking you are doing, judging by your face." He watched the blonde woman giving him an eye roll before resuming on her picking of the cinnamon roll on her plate. As a Sheriff, he knew he should know better than to poke an angry porcupine (because to him she was like a porcupine, all tense and guarded, ready to shoot spines if he did the wrong thing). "Who's got you so tense?" he said, pretending to be nonchalant, because he just could not help it, no he could not.

Emma eyed him from head to toe, taking on his whole relaxed posture and eyed her cup, filled with whiskey-laced cocoa, wishing so desperately he actually had started a verbal sparring match. That, she might have known how to handle, but not this. She sighed in defeat. "Regina, Archie, Henry, Sophie... there's a big list." She snorted then. Catching herself, she back-pedaled before she could blurt out more of what was going on inside her. "You would not understand."

Graham chuckled. If only she knew... he wanted to understand. He could see in her slightly defeated posture that she was used to carrying the weight of the world in her shoulders, and it made him want to make it better, but he did not know how. "Try me," he replied, reaching across the booth to pat Emma's hand. "Some people say talking about it actually helps," Emma raised her eyes to meet his, "and you look like you could use a friendly ear."

"You? A friendly ear?" Emma scoffed, but the corners of her mouth turned up a bit, and she moved her hand away from where it was, preventing him from touching it again. "You threw me into jail."

"I was just following the law." He watched Emma roll her eyes again, but he could see her hesitate. Again, the porcupine was raising its spines. _Be careful, Graham_, he told himself. Her eyes were waiting. He could see the hope in them, though he knew she probably could not, so he went ahead and gave it a try. "Look, I know it's none of my business, but you look like you could use someone to vent to, and I promise, if talking does not make you feel better, then I won't bother you again"

At this Emma did smile, her superpower telling her he was being honest, and, damn, why could not he be more like the jerk that had handcuffed her not long ago? Emma was fine with that, she was used to people being unkind, one of the reasons she did not fall for Regina's gloating. But, this? Why did Graham have to even try, with such an open expression, to understand why she was having a bad time? She looked at his face: even with the whole rugged Irishman thing going on for him, Emma could see that he would look like a nerd if he did not have that wild masculine edge that exuded inner strength. "Fine, but I'll hold you up to that promise."

The Sheriff grinned: he had gotten close enough and she had not attacked him yet. Graham felt as though he was dealing with a wounded animal, not that Emma was an animal, of course; she was very much a woman, a beautiful one, in fact, not that he liked only that about her but... _damn it Graham, focus_. "So, what's on your mind that has you with that face then?"

"Well, nothing... and everything." She chuckled. "First, there's Sophie. I left her about half an hour ago in Mr Gold's shop, and knowing her, she'll probably end up with more trouble than it's worth. You know, she's the smartest girl sometimes," Emma grimaced, "but since she's so nice, it makes people think they can take advantage of her, and according to... uh, the whole town, your Mr Gold is best known for taking advantage of people, and here I am worried to my ears because my best friend can't seem to stop believing the best of people she should naturally assume the worst of." Thinking about it brought a fresh wave of anger to her muscles, so she took a big swig from her mug. Emma really wanted to hit something: where was a good bail jumper when you needed one?.

"Okay, I can see your point," Graham nodded, "but I met Sophie today, she seemed like a girl that can take care of herself," he said, thinking back to the laughing girl with blue eyes he had met in the morning. He had thought them to be so opposite: Emma, with the hard glares, blonde curls and beautiful Greek-goddess-like features, seeming by far the most worldly of the two, while Sophie smiled and her brown haired, blue eyed delicacy only sparkled with innocence. He had to admit to himself Emma had a point, Sophie to him had looked like a living spark of joy, while Mr Gold had a reputation of crushing people like her, but, for Emma's sake he hoped she really could take care of herself.

Emma tried not to remember how Graham had first met her best friend, and took the conversation in another direction. "Hell, she can, I made sure she knows how to use a gun."

Graham chuckled at that. He could see it now in his head: Emma, older and taller, protectively teaching her sister how to use a gun, while the smaller brunette aimed miles away from the actual target. But, then again, he felt something akin to relief at the knowledge Emma did know how to use one as well.

"But that does not mean she can't be wrong. She prides herself in knowing how to read people, but people are not all good," Emma said, making elaborate motions with her fingers, her shoulders hunched deeper, not caring she was making a fool of herself in front of Graham. "There's good, bad, and there's bad going on good and good going on bad, and that's what sucks because the last ones are exactly the type of people she befriends." Emma again put her hands to her head. "And I left her to deal with Gold alone."

"Emma," Graham stopped her, looking into her eyes. He could see why she was so worried. He was glad she confided in him, too, but he knew he had to do something to make her feel better. "Sophie is going to be fine. I know, I do not know her, but if all you keep saying is true, then try not to overthink it so much. Sure, Gold is known as the Beast of Storybrooke, and you have every right to be wary, but I promise everything will be all right." Graham did not know why, but it was the first time he felt almost alive having a conversation. Although Emma had been doing most of the talking, it did not bother him. He wanted to help her. She reminded him of something, someone, like a half forgotten dream. At that moment the only thing he wanted was to see her frown disappear. "You trust her, don't you?"

"With my life."

"You said she's a smart person didn't you?"

Emma nodded feeling a bit comforted by his logic.

"Then, she'll probably stand her ground, no matter what Mr Gold sends her way." _If she is anything like you_, Graham wanted to add, seeing the tension leave her shoulders a bit. "Sophie will be fine."

Emma wanted to refute his logic. She really wanted to tell him the million reasons why it would not be. She wanted to tell him Sophie was a one person hospital for broken people, tell Graham that if there was a wounded, in-need-of-rehabilitation soul in ten thousand miles then it was bound to find her sister. Hell, she lived with Emma, who was in by herself a fountain of issues, and that should account for something,

But, instead, she moved on the next subject, because Graham sounded hopeful, and it was admittedly making her feel better to hear him. "My next problem is Regina. No, I know what you are going to say, she's you boss you can't slander her blah blah blah, but seriously!"

Graham shook his head. She was right, to a certain point, but, well, he owed her a little bit of honesty. "I think... that she feels threatened by you," he said, slowly wondering if Regina would kill him for this, but one look at Emma and it suddenly felt right to tell her. "It's the first time someone has dared to cross her as you have. I admire it actually."

"She is making my son miserable, what did you expect me to do? Leave and give her a medal?" Emma huffed. She knew Graham would not understand this part, but she kept talking anyway. "She's got something out for me." Graham opened his mouth to point out the obvious, but she cut him off. "Apart from the fact I'm Henry's birth mother, and not only that, do you realize how much harm she's doing to him? Isolating him like that, making him feel so alone?"

He could feel she was entering personal territory, and for what he had seen he should not be the one to encourage her in her grudge against the mayor, but he had to give her a warning, because Regina was the type of woman who destroyed everything, and he did not want Emma to suffer like he had under her wrath. "Emma, please, I'm going to tell you this because you should know. Regina does not play by the rules, OK? If she wants you out, she's going to make sure you are, please do not goad her into doing something drastic."

"Like what?" Emma's eyes widened. Graham knew the type of things Regina was capable of. "What kind of thing is she capable of?"

"She is the mayor, she has her hands in everything."

"Including the police force?" Emma asked, narrowing her eyes. Graham, like Archie, did not answer. "Thought so" she said, shrugging her shoulders, wondering if he was the type of guy that would go running to Regina to tell her about Emma's secrets. Her instincts told her he would not, that if he was taking the time to warn her about the mayor despite the obvious influence she had on him, then it had to mean he at least wanted to be on her side: Wanted being the operative word, remembering the things Mary had told her about Regina. Once again, Emma felt the odd need to strangle the woman just because she existed to make these nice people miserable.

"I know you are doing the right thing if it helps. Facing the mayor is not something one would take lightly, but you are doing it. I think it speaks well of you, the fact you are not afraid of her." Graham hoped with all of his might she would be alright if it came to one of Regina's dirty tricks, because he had an eerie feeling in the back of his mind that Regina would not stop at murder, and while he was not scared for himself, he was if it meant she would harm Emma one day. "Is that why Henry worries you? Because of Regina?"

"No, of course not, he's the world's greatest kid actually," she immediately said, trying not to sound overly whiny and deciding to give the issue of Regina a rest. "But he looks up to me like I'm some kind of hero, or Supergirl, and I'm not. It's crazy because I want to be, and he has so much conviction, have you seen it? The kid lights up a room by just existing, he is stubborn and brave and even a little rebellious. I know I should tell him to stop it, but I can't, because those are the things I like about him, yet those are the same traits that make me think 'what am I going to do with him?'"

Graham laughed. He had always wanted to know what type of person it took to create a little boy like Henry. Now that he met his mother, he could safely tell himself the child was just a mirror of her stronger traits, and hearing how she spoke about him he realized Henry was probably right in believing she could do anything. Even Graham, after a short conversation, could see what he saw in her, like the strength and bravery. He wanted her to know that, too, but before he could start saying crazy things, Graham remembered the porcupine, and stopped himself.

"You know I can't tell you anything about that, considering that his mom is my boss and all of that, but if I could," he looked into her eyes, those troubled eyes that carried a weight too heavy for her alone, and said the truth, one he did not know he knew, "I'd tell you Henry is happier now that you are here, that he is lucky he has a mother that cares about him in the way you do and that if I were you, I would be happy too."

"Happiness was not made for me," Emma sighed wearily. If only he knew how broken she was inside, then he would think the same.

"I beg to differ," Graham said, getting up when he realized in sadness that his break was up. Emma saw him glance at the clock and understood. "Everybody deserves happiness Emma, I know you do too," and he wanted for a moment to put his arms around this broken woman and assure her of the statement, because he could see that she could weather a storm (and maybe had), but it had left her scarred.

Before Graham left, Emma smiled up at him. "Thank you, Graham and not just for saying that."

"Like I said, it helps to talk about things once in a while," he replied, watching her genuine smile, as though he had relieved her from a small part of the weight she had on her shoulders, then he turned to leave. "If you ever need to do it again, you know I'm always glad to listen."

And, as Emma watched him go, she wondered why she felt so tempted to take him up on the offer.

Graham was not as scarred as her, at least on the outside he did not seem to be. He was a perfect small town police officer, with little to nothing to hide, but experience had taught her that just because a guy was nice to her, it did not mean he was not secretly a scumbag. Better to be wary and not take anything at face value, even when he had been so sweet to listen to her problems.

Yet, during their whole conversation, he never lied or gave away dishonesty in his body language.

Emma wondered if all of Belle's insistence on her trying to look for a guy again might be what was making her so mellow at the idea of a nice guy liking her.

And Graham, well, he walked away happier with himself, knowing he had made a difference in her day. She had thanked him, and the memory of her face made him feel like a schoolboy facing his first crush all the way back to the station. He knew it was just because he had helped her for once, instead of making her troubles worse, or at least he told himself that, but it did not change the fact that the sight of Emma's genuine smile would be something that would not leave him for a long time. He had caused that smile, yes he had, and he hoped he would cause many more.

* * *

Half an hour later, Belle walked into the diner with a look in her face Emma knew well.

"Speak of the devil," Emma muttered, because by the apologetic, almost forlorn look Belle had, whatever happened next would probably involve either a nasty surprise or a very big fight.

And they did have a fight a big nasty fight. That went something like this:

"What the Hell, Belle, the man is dangerous, tell me you did not agree with it!" Emma shouted when they finally closed the door to their shared room at Granny's inn.

"But, Emma, Mr Gold was right, we could use the money, especially if we are planning to move here anytime soon," Belle pleaded. "And no, I didn't say yes right away. What kind of idiot do you take me for? I wanted to consult it with you."

"We are NOT moving here," Emma snapped. "This is just temporary," she motioned around them.

"Oh, please, who are you trying to fool? We both know one week here could easily turn into a month," Belle challenged.

"I knew I shouldn't have left you alone, couldn't you just pay the money and be done with it? Why did you have to be talked into taking a job with THAT man," her friend grimaced.

"Are you saying you would leave Henry just like that?" Belle was angry. She disliked what Emma was implying. "Tell me, how long before we leave and break his heart? A week? A month? Look at your face Ems, you can't even bear to think about it."

"Do not bring Henry into this, Belle, that's playing dirty!"

"You would not leave, and we both know it."

"But we can do just fine with the money that's left in our accounts, there was no need for this and you know it."

"No, we do not, that money barely covers two weeks in this place, and that's only if we spend it well!" Belle argued. "What will happen when it runs out? And you realize we should have looked for a place since the beginning? Because I do not think the streets in Storybrooke would take as kindly to your bug and my Mercedes loitering in unknown parking places."

"Shut up, we have both survived worse odds than this. There is really no need to sacrifice yourself, because that's what this is, isn't it? Freaking sacrifice," Emma snapped.

"What if it is?" Belle kept her stance. "This time is different from the others. last time we didn't have Henry to factor in, he's ten for goodness sake, let me take a crappy job for two months if it means you get to have more time with him."

"I still will have to look for a job, Belle, it's not that simple. Why sacrifice yourself if it's going to be for nothing."

"No, it's not, with our savings intact we can afford to start looking for a place to live while you look for a job."

"And meanwhile I get to live in guilt knowing you could have found a job with a nice boss but now are stuck with that man because you wanted to make things easier for me?"

"I got to live in guilt every day in California, and in Pennsylvania, and in all those other places where you would end up carrying most of my proverbial weight."

"It's different with me, stop it."

"Why?" Belle shouted, angry with her friend. "Why do you get to be the one that's always giving up things for me? Why can't I do the same?"

"Because that's my job!" Emma screamed. "You don't get to be the human sacrifice, Belle not now, not ever!"

"I don't care, I'm taking the job" the brunette said with finality. "Why can't you see I'm only trying to help?"

"Of course you are, because that's just what you do, and you know what, it's freaking annoying."

"You didn't mean it. Say you didn't mean it!"

"I meant it!" Emma was so angry, she did not stop and think on what she said. "You don't really get it, do you, Belle? You are wired that way, it's something I've come to accept but hell, it's hard to live with your pathological need to help people, especially lost causes!"

"Emma, stop!" Belle shouted back "You are angry, just stop!"

But Emma did not stop, she just wanted Belle to get it, get why sacrificing herself for her was wrong. "You are like a broken people magnet," Emma kept going. "Trust me, if there's a broken, desolate, hurt soul in the vicinity you feel the pull, like some sort of freaking gravitational satellite, and people are so broken that you always want to help, but that's just it, some people are beyond help, and it hurts to watch when your best friend realizes that!"

"At least I try, at least I'm not always assuming the worst of people because I'm afraid of getting hurt, I go out there and take a leap of faith, and if it means letting someone hurt me then so be it!"

"Belle, do you know what you look like when you get hurt? You look like a shadow of yourself, and you know what's always the worst part?" Emma snapped. "The worst part is always the fact I have front row seats, knowing someone made a person you care about feel like crap and you can't do anything about it. I, for one, would like to spare you, so yes, I avoid trusting people and I avoid getting hurt, because it sucks, because people lie and deceive and play games and backstab each other, so that's why you don't get to take the job, because I, out of both, can resist pain better."

"But I WANT to take the job, don't you understand? It would mean you won't have to shoulder the burden all on your own!" Belle almost had tears in her eyes. "Mr Gold is not that bad."

"People call him the Beast, for heaven's sake." Emma shook her head at Belle's ever-present optimism, wanting to shake her into oblivion. "He's a monster."

"No, he's not," Belle fought, "there's good in him."

"Can you prove there is? Because working alongside someone as cold-hearted as he seemed to be would make you miserable." Emma held the argument before Belle's face.

"Can you prove there is not?" Belle saw Emma sit down on her bed to rub her temples. "I am going to accept the deal, and that's it."

"If you were going to all along, why bother discussing it with me?"

"Because you are you," Belle used Emma's words against her. "And I would have felt like I betrayed you, because I knew you would scream at me and still waited, because you have spent so much time looking after me that for once, I wanted to return the favor."

With a sigh, Emma saw she was hurting her friend even more, and realized she was right. Belle knew she would be angry but, since they always discussed things with each other, she still went headfirst into the storm. Calming down, Emma looked up. "You have looked after me, too."

Realizing the storm was over, Belle sighed and went to sit next to her friend. "I am no longer the same girl with a blank slate for a memory you met in the hospital six years ago, Emma," she said, trying very hard to let her understand how she felt. "I do not need you to tell me how the washing machine works anymore." She made a pause to let her next words sink in. "You no longer have to be strong enough for both."

"And you don't have to be brave enough for both, either." Emma sighed, putting an arm behind Belle's back.

"Such a loop we find ourselves in, right? You protecting me, me protecting you." Belle sighed as well, leaning her head on Emma's. They both stayed like that for a while, pondering at the aftermath of their fight.

"I didn't mean to shout at you, Bells. I'm sorry," Emma whispered.

"I'm sorry too. I didn't mean anything I said either," Belle apologized as well.

"You are still going to work with Gold, no matter how much I beg, aren't you?" Emma muttered in defeat. She did not want this for Belle, but it seemed she could not stop it.

"I just have this feeling, Emma. I know when you met him you thought he was... eh..."

Still not lifting her head from Belle's shoulder, Emma joked, "Dark, ruthless and creepy as hell with a hidden agenda?"

Belle chuckled. "Yes, that." Then, she remembered the tea set Mr Gold had promised he would tell her about and smiled. "But I have this hunch that there's more to him than that, so much more." She trailed off, remembering his deep eyes. Frowning, she tried to explain what she thought to Emma. "There's something familiar about the way he behaves. So controlled, so proper, almost like he's taking care to choose which side of him he lets people see... as if he was wearing a mask over his true self." She wanted to say more, but seeing Emma lift her head to look at her, she shook herself and chuckled. "Does that sound crazy to you?"

"Honestly, yes" Emma replied with the blatant truth, "but, then again, you have always been able to see things in people that I never will, it's your superpower," she joked, but then she turned to Belle with all the seriousness of a concerned friend. "If you tell me you think Mr Gold wouldn't ever intentionally make you miserable just for his amusement, then I will let you do it, and I won't complain, because I trust your judgment, but if you can't even give me that, I won't be able to sleep at night."

"I don't think he's the kind of man who would do that," Belle said. "I told you I see good in him."

"Then, I trust you," she said, remembering her conversation with Graham earlier.

"Always?" Belle asked, giving her a little sister hug.

Emma nodded, returning the hug. "Yep, always."

* * *

"Gold, you knew this was going to happen."

That was the first thing Regina said when she entered Mr Gold's pawn shop.

_Why do you have to come now, when I'm trying to think of reasons not to put you into a deep coma until the Savior breaks the curse, dearie?_ Rumplestiltskin thought to himself, but on the outside he remained the gentleman, schooling his features so as not to betray his anger.

"Madame Mayor, what can I do for you?" he said with a smile, even if what he wanted to do was to wring her neck and leave the corpse in a ditch. This witch had lied to him about Belle being alive, and if she had lied about where his true love was, magic knew what else she had lied about. The one thing he could give her was that she had taken the lesson about taking advantage of other people's weaknesses to heart. She either deserved a medal or an arrow to the heart for managing to make a fool out of him.

"You knew this would happen," she repeated again, more forcefully this time. "This woman that's been traipsing around town, claiming to be my son's birth mother, you somehow planned this." Regina was furious, and even more by his lack of any meaningful expression. _Damn it, Gold, curse you to the darkest pits whoof Wonderland_, she thought. "You finding Henry was not an accident was it?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Rumplestiltskin asked pretending to be his cursed self for a while longer, seeing her rage behind her eyes and savoring every minute of it. Good, if she was angry, then she was bound to destroy herself more easily.

Regina stalked past the door and right up to his counter. "Where did you get him, what do you know?"

He really should pity her, because she had not realized she was at a disadvantage in this duel, but he would not do that, because he knew she had a hand in whatever made Belle disappear, and until he could prove that, he would not take any risks with her. "I have no idea what you are implying."

"I think you do, who is she? This Emma Swan?" The lack of mention about the Savior's friend probably meant she had probably been planning so hard to look for ways to trip Emma up that she had hardly had any time to pay attention to the rumors about 'the other girl' that had also been traipsing around town, thinking of her as nothing more than an outsider on whom she can sick Graham on, told him quite a lot.

"I would think, Madame Mayor, that you know exactly who she is," Mr Gold replied, spiking her anger even more, "but now that you are so eager with the subject, have you heard anything of interest about her? Or the girl that came with her?" he questioned, pretending to be bored, but actually not betraying his true emotions. Once again, Regina was left wondering what the man was playing at.

"Nothing that could appeal to you," Regina replied, trying to retail with a small bluff that, unfortunately for her, Rumplestiltskin saw through immediately, so he smirked, because, if only she knew the truth... Nevertheless, for Belle's sake, he should do something now.

"I hope you amuse yourself with young Henry's birth mother, then," he pretended to chuckle at the idea as he looked for an opening where his subtle order would go unnoticed, and counting on Regina's hair-trigger temper to ensure that.

"I will. Rest assured, that woman will be out of Storybrooke by tomorrow, if that's the last thing I do," she replied.

"Good, but, for business sake, leave the other girl up to me, _please_." He did not say the 'other girl's' name in order to make her think she was not important enough, expecting her obsession with the Savior would make her leave Belle alone.

The little magic that still existed in Storybrooke still jarred through her after Gold used the "please" clause she had agreed to so many years ago. She looked at him with a narrow glance, wondering if he might actually be Rumplestiltskin. "Why, Gold, I never thought I'd see the day. I don't suppose I'll be looking forward to seeing a new Mrs Gold soon, darling," Regina said with a fake laugh, confident because she had the town under control, and before Emma Swan came it was standard procedure to rub Rumple's lack of loved ones on his face anytime she could.

Only, the Savior was in Storybrooke now, and Rumplestiltskin was now quite willing to take revenge for her behavior. If only she knew that her little taunt was quite close to the truth... it made him wish he had enough magic to make something really nasty happen to her without endangering the curse, but, alas, it could not be, so he reminded himself why caning her until she was black and blue would not be a good idea in the long run.

"Oh, nothing like that, dear. It just happens that the girl has recently acquired a debt to yours truly," he says, knowing Regina would smirk at that, which she did, so he patiently walked around the counter to face her and continued. "Let's just say I wouldn't appreciate if you ran this one out of town before she can pay what she owes me."

"Really? I have to give it to you, you are fast. Not one day in Storybrooke, and she already owes you something." Regina snorted, making a point to remember to dig everything she could about this second newcomer. The fact that she was now in his jurisdiction meant that the girl might be useful to keep herself informed about everything Gold did. "But, if you want it that way, then, very well. I'll leave that girl to you. My only interest right now is in getting Emma Swan out of my town."

"And I certainly do not doubt your power to do it, Madame Mayor," Mr Gold chuckled. Oh, she was angry, rather deliciously so, so why not keep on provoking her for his amusement? "But, if you were to find yourself in need of assistance, you can always come to me." Understatement of the year. He did not need his powers as the Dark One to know Regina would fail in her quest to eradicate the Savior. That was why he had chosen the offspring of Prince Charming and Snow White over that of, Cinderella's for example. He knew the child of two such strong people would be a mighty person on its own, and the few moments he had seen Emma Swan had been an assurance to him that she was strong enough to endure all kind of trials and obstacles put in her way. "I can always help... for a price, of course."

"Oh, no, I'm done making deals with you after the last time," Regina snapped, remembering a very unpleasant time in her life when she had been desperate enough to recur to him for something she wanted above anything else.

"Yes, I too recall when I procured young Henry for you." Mr Gold could not resist it, he had to make the comment. "Such a charming name, however you picked it." He knew that reminding her of her dad, whom she had killed to start the curse, was a low blow, but given what she had said about Belle before, he felt it was a perfect payback.

Regina's eyes clouded for a moment and she opened her mouth, literally this close of accusing him of something, but then shook her head, changing her mind. It would do her no good to keep this up with the old bastard. "Needless to say, this is exactly why I would prefer to handle Miss Swan without your help." She left the rest unsaid, directing him one of her glares.

"Do tell, what do you plan on doing to her?"

"None of your business, Gold," the mayor snapped, "and since you are not willing to tell me anything that could serve me to get rid of her, I guess I'll just have to resort to other means." So what if her feeble threat amused him to no end? She was still the caster of the curse, he owed it to her not to laugh in her face, well at least not yet.

"Then, I wish you luck," he replied, turning away from her to pretend to peruse one of the artifacts in the shop with a shrug, letting her know he considered the conversation over. "If that is all you wished to tell me, feel free to leave."

"Now that you mention it, I do have a meeting at City Hall in a few minutes." Cursed or not, the town needed to be run with an iron fist, and it looked like, for the time being, her budding vendetta against Emma Swan would have to wait. "I would say it has been a wonderful conversation, but then again, it was not," Regina mocked looking at her clock, her red lips willing him to bait her more.

"_Au contraire_, Madame Mayor, speaking with you is always a pleasure." No, he was not imagining the next ten thousand ways he could make himself a coat with her dead corpse, that would be far too merciful for her. "But just to make sure we are clear, you will do me the favor of staying away from Miss Sophie Reed." He had to be specific: he was not that stupid to let her get through any loopholes. "Please, for business sake."

The magic of the curse picked up again on the tab of his command, biding Regina to do what he ordered whether she wanted or not, and as much as he would love to use the magic word to request her to hang herself, or jump off a bridge, he had to remind himself that there were far worse, more painful ways to see her suffer without endangering his plans to find his son.

Regina gave him a fake smile, unable to go against the almost irresistible compulsion and fight that tiny bolt of energy that forced her to reply through clenched teeth "Of course, if that's what you want," because, once she said that, he knew he had won, and if there was something Regina hated was losing to Rumplestiltskin, regardless of the dimension they were in.

"I don't suppose there's a reason why I shouldn't. After all, as long as she doesn't intrude in my affairs, there shouldn't be any problems." _But you are counting on whoever this new girl is to intrude in my affairs, right?_ she thought. "Is that all, or will you tell me to stay away from Miss Swan, too?"

"Now, why would I do that?" he taunted her, enough fake honey in his voice to hide the sarcastic tone, and then he turned away from her, giving her the proverbial _I'm too busy for your antics_ motion that she had been used to see since, well, forever. "If that's all, I trust you know your way out, my dear."

Regina did not reply. She just stalked out of the shop in an angry huff, promising herself to find out about whatever he was up to.

It was not until later, much later, when she actually met Sophie Reed, that she realized where she was wrong all along.

* * *

Once their fight was over, Emma and Belle weathered the rest of the evening as best as they could. Officially accepting the fact Boston would no longer be their home was the easy part. The hard part came later when it came to tying loose ends.

When Belle called the Boston library, that job she loved so much, she fought hard to keep the tears from her eyes as she explained to her boss, a kindly old matron she liked very much called Mrs Cunningham, how she was moving away, and if she could please have a nice letter of recommendation for her new job. It hurt to hear the woman's sadness as she asked Belle if she really could not go back to Boston, citing how the library patrons liked her and the influence she had in their teenage regulars, going as far as to offer her a raise. Belle surprised herself when she began to cry at the end of the phone call.

Because, sometimes, doing the right thing was painful. After all, Belle really loved her job. She had loved everything it entailed: the schedule, the people, the books the smell of musty unused old pages. She even liked the hours of traffic it took to get there. Emma had been sympathetic, of course, as she was not a fan of seeing her cry. Knowing why she was doing, she patted her back, telling her "it was just a job" (it was not).

Meanwhile, Emma had also made her calls. One to the bail bonds office, to tell them she was moving to Storybrooke and probably would be unable to keep working with them, and another to their current landlord, to arrange for the move of their things. "_Yes, sir, as soon as we can figure out our new apartment_, _No, not really_, _Yes, we are both happy you can hold it_, _Yes, she is fine_, _Two weeks are more than enough, thank you Mr Watson_, _Of course we will mail you the key as soon as we get settled_, _No, I'm sorry, it's not negotiable"_ formed part of the conversation with their landlord.

It had been a hard afternoon, which was why, once Emma gleaned out of Leroy the location of the local bar (called The Rabbit Hole), she had threatened Bell with disowning her if she did not drag her backside out of the inn and joined her for a few drinks.

Naturally, Belle had wanted out: her nickname had come out after a drunk night, but Emma had been through a lot in just a few hours, and she admitted that she also had her fair share of "_I really need a freaking drink"_ moments several times since they arrived to Storybrooke. So, once Emma promised she would not be getting drunk, and appointed her designated driver, like she was known to do during one of those "I can't take it anymore" days, Belle finally gave in.

Which was why Belle found herself dressed up in a pair of jeans and tank top, playing pool with Emma while they both vented their feelings on the pool table.

* * *

"Hey, stranger, you look like you could use a drink," a man said, coming up to sit next to Belle, who had been sitting there looking at Emma (and making bets with the bartender) for a more than half an hour.

Emma had just been joined by Graham, and not wanting to be the third wheel, Belle had just claimed to be tired. "I could, but tonight I'm designated driver," she replied to the man, not paying attention to him as Graham moved closer to Emma (who had forbidden Belle, under pain of death, to embarrass her again), and now the two just looked like a subtle dance of cat and mouse around the pool table.

"How about a soda, then?" the guy kept asking in good humor.

"Sure, why not?" she replied, still not looking at him. _Gosh, what are those two saying to each other? Wish I had a front row seat..._ she thought. She would have to grill Emma about him later.

"You know, I think the roof just became gingerbread, care for a taste?"

"Sure," Belle replied, then she caught on what was going on. "What?" She swiveled around to look at the guy. He was a blond man, dressed in jeans and a green gym T-shirt, and was grinning at her from his seat.

"And here I thought you weren't listening to me," he said, his eyes crinkling in good humor. "I'm Jim, by the way. Jim Frederiksen," he introduced himself, extending his hand. Belle, polite as always, smiled back at him and shook it. "So, tell my, why have I not seen you around here in The Rabbit Hole before?"

"I'm not exactly from here," she replied. "I'm Sophie, Sophie Reed if you need a surname. You come here a lot?"

"Once in a while, when it's not a school night," Jim replied. "I'm a teacher at the local school, if you can believe it.

"No way, you look so young. What do you teach?" Belle idly wondered if Jim knew Mary Margaret. Well, he was bound to, it was a small town.

"Don't worry. I don't teach physics or anything, just gym class. And yes, I've heard it before, don't worry about saying it," he replied when Belle put her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Your name is Jim, and you teach gym class?" Belle asked, holding a giggle in. "Someone out there has a sense of humor."

"Tell me about it. I've borne the brunt of that joke for years," he replied, handing her the soda he had ordered. "So, what about you? Any jokes about your job?"

"Well... yes, actually." Belle smiled, hoping she had not offended him. "I used to work as a librarian."

Jim snorted, making his current drink spray through his nose. "See, this is why I don't drink on school nights." Using a napkin to clean the small mess, he regarded Belle with an amused look. "Miss Reed the librarian. And you thought me being called Jim the gym teacher was funny."

Belle laughed, and Jim saw the stranger girl's eyes sparkle with joy, and like any other guy that had ever witnessed that, he thought it was quite charming. Soon, they were both laughing together at the whole silliness of it.

"Looks like your friend over there will probably need for you to take her keys away soon," Jim said when they finally calmed down. He also looked at his watch. It was not late, but he had class tomorrow, and he should get moving. He wave idly at Sheriff Graham (who was still beating Emma in pool), and then he turned to Belle.

"I think you might be right, she will kill me tomorrow if I let her get drunk enough for a hangover," Belle waved too and signaled at Emma to the door, the blonde made a tired motion and looked at Graham, signaling a number five to Belle with her right hand.

"So, Sophie, listen I really liked talking to you today," Jim said, and for a second, the world stopped, because Belle suddenly saw things clearly. The headache she really had not missed began pounding full force. She had been having a good time with a nice guy, and common sense dictated he should either ask her out or ask for her number, and she really could find no visible flaw to him, so saying yes would only be a matter of putting two and two together, but in that split second it had taken for Jim, all golden-haired and handsome to say the words, Belle had seen Mr Gold's face flash before her eyes, and had felt... sad, hurt, guilty, as if she should not be there flirting with this obviously nice guy, but why, why did it hurt? The headache hardly let her think, like fists against glass trying to get through...

The moment passed though and Belle was right back at the bar next to Jim. "And I was thinking if you would like to join me for dinner tomorrow, and before you say anything, no, I do not make a habit of asking out every pretty girl I meet in a bar," he joked, and Belle had to smile. Such a nice guy, a little sad in the background though.

And just like Emma had said many times, it was these type of things that attracted Belle to people. Imperfections like Jim's residual sadness that prompted her curiosity. "You think I'm pretty?" she said, not because she really wanted to ask, but because this was the right response when a nice guy who was trying to ask you out made that kind of remark. That was just what you had to say, whether you liked him or not.

Belle wondered once again why she did not feel her heart pounding. He was young, attractive, funny, and had a stable job. by all means he fit the criteria of the average 21st century perfect man. But here she was, more concentrated in Graham's advances on Emma than in Jim.

"Very pretty, and I want to get to know you a bit more, so what do you say? Tomorrow at eight, dinner at Fratelli's?" he asked with a relaxed stance, showing her how he really would accept anything she said, regardless if she took his invitation or not.

_Say no_. The headache pounded hard, Belle winced. _Say no_.

_Tell him you love someone else!_ Again the headache pounded harder, and Belle looked dubiously at her glass of soda. What the heck was in that thing?

_Please Sophie listen to me! Please listen._

But Belle could not hear the voice of her memories begging her to walk away from Jim, so she just continued and smiled at him, thinking about how she had not been asked out in so long, and about the day that she would face after accepting Mr Gold's deal and all. Maybe having a date to look forward to at the end of the day might actually be nice. "Sure, I'd love to, but I barely know this town, you'll have to pick me up."

"Can I have your number, then?"

"Here it is," she said, writing it down on a napkin as Emma reached her side, startling her.

"Ready to go Sophie?" Emma said, eying Jim with a raised eyebrow. Belle elbowed her.

"Sure, bye Jim, see you tomorrow, I hope."

"I'll call you after class," he said sending her a nice smile that did absolutely nothing to her insides. "It's a date."

"A date? Wow, Belle, somebody's moving fast," Emma grilled her, joking when he was out of earshot, "and he's cute to boot, too."

"Shut up, he was just being nice," Belle silenced Emma. "But he was cute right?" she giggled, ready for the girly talk that was sure to come out of this.

* * *

**AN: Hey guys, how did you like this chapter? Next one we will see how things progress with Belle and Emma in "Snow Falls".**

**Things I wanted to mention (apart from the fact I loved to write the Gremma scene up there), were **

**Emma's allergy to apples: it's actually based on something that did happen to my mom, she ate this artificial brand of canned pineapples once and has been allergic ever since.**

**Emma and Belle's fight: I originally planned to cut it off, but, hell, I thought you guys deserved to see it, considering this was supposed to be more of a friendship fic than anything else. Tell me, would it have been better if I had cut it out? **

**Favorite scene so far is, obviously, Mr Gold imagining ways to tell Regina to jump off a bridge, "please". Seriously, this has got to be the best superpower Rumplestilskin has in history, the "please" clause, it kills me every time... **

**Also guys, meet the other half of the Abigail/Frederick combo... Jim! I know, normally people bring in Gaston, but he's a rose, so I'm not reviving him. I will never understand why, being as hot as he is, Jim is never used in Fanfiction as anybody's love interest, not even Kathryn's, and he should be used. He's a handsome knight, and he deserves more on-screen time. Now, will we see him meeting Kathryn? Will there it be a love triangle? Will we see him kissing Belle? Will we see him in gym shorts? (gosh I hope so)**

**Finally, I would like to ask my readers to send me any ideas they have, not matter how silly. I've told you guys I do not know where this is going, so it would be nice to, at least, have a couple of ideas, and not just snippets of I want to do this and I want to do that. **

**Review, review and review! You know I love it when you guys do it, even if it's just in monosyllables, but if any of you would like to include in those reviews an idea for where I should take my plot then rest assured I would really appreciate it.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi people! I know you guys have been waiting, but, in my defense I was ill this week: headaches, flu, fever, sore throat, eye pain, you name it, and since I hate hospitals I spent the whole week stuck in bed, passing the illness off medieval style. Only chewing off Tylenol as self prescribed meds. The first good news is, I learned my lesson, and will go to see a certified oftalmologist about my migraines and eye pain as soon as I can. Hopefully, the only thing I'll be told is to get a pair of glasses. **

**Now, dearies, here's a good advice for the future: if you find yourself suffering to the point of bodily disconection, and your father invites you to the beach while being insensitive enough not to notice the "gosh your daughter looks so pale" remarks given by his family members, don't, and I repeat, don't, chalk up the paleness to the fact you need a good tan. I learned the hard way last weekend that people with fever, headaches and another asortment of common cold symtoms, DON'T TAN WELL. Oh and that the fact my estranged father overlooks my suffering in favor of pretending everything is okay doesn't mean I should, too, as my mother said once I actually got back home Monday night.**

**The other good news is that it was a long trip with only my blackberry's wordpress app for company, and I was able to ignore most of the car nausea by concentrating on writing a chapter for you guys.**

**Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for the OUAT franchise, but seriously, I don't want to get sued, so no, I don't own anything.**

**Thanks to my bestie, Milarqui. Dearie, I am eternally in debt, you have my gratitude for your help. **

_(Beta Note: Sorry to hear you were ill, I really hope you get better soon. Though, with all the dearies you are dropping, I'm left wondering if you aren't getting possessed by Mr Gold/Rumplestiltskin. Might explain the migraines)_

**Chapter thirteen: Snow is falling allright**

You know how there are times in life when you swear to yourself you will be good, that you will not make the same mistakes again, and just a minute later you screw up all your previous good intentions by proving karma right?

Like that time you swore you would go on a diet only to eat like a pig seconds later?

Well, Emma Swan was feeling something akin to that at the moment.

Looking around as she woke up and cracked an eyelid open, she felt a very soft arm wrapped around her torso, and struggled to make sense of the million jumble of thoughts that were crowding her head. Hearing a groan come from her back, she lazliy shuffled, turning herself to the side and looked sleepily at Mary Margaret's still slumbering pale face.

_Wait a second. Mary Margaret? _What the hell was Mary Margaret doing in her bed?

Emma's eyes snapped open and she shot upwards with more force than intended, panic settling inside of her, struggling to make sense of her surroundings, and shrug off the sleep.

_This is not good. Where's Belle, anyway? She was supposed to be designated driver!_

Emma heaved her eyes to the sky when she took in where she was. They were in her and Belle's room at Granny's, thank lord. Emma breathed in relief when she saw that Belle was not MIA. She was actually still wearing her last night's jeans, and was sprawled all over her own bed in a "very-hammered-librarian" position. The few bottles of wine littering the floor and the black-screened laptop tossed aside on the ground began making sense as the hangover that had started a few moments ago started to clear away, allowing her to remember what had happened the night before...

* * *

_Emma had been joking with Belle, ribbing her about "her new conquest" all the way after they had left the bar. When they passed by an "open all night" Chinese food restaurant on their way back, they decided to have dinner there and discuss where they were planning to move from there. They were not ready to call it a night since the aftermath of their fight had left them both feeling emotionally guilty, and, in between sistery jabs at each other's budding love lives, time (and dinner) had gone by pretty fast._

_Untill they realized it was actually getting pretty late and decided to continue the conversation home. Or at what passed for home right then._

_"I just cannot believe this town, Emma. Come on, really?" Belle muttered, angry at the newspaper she had just shoved into her friend's hands._

_"Figured out the total lack of available places already, huh?" Emma could not resist but smirk from the passenger side of Belle's Mercedes. "I saw that ages ago."_

_"The mayor has it against you, seriously. There's no housing available, no decent coffee shop or appropiate mall in a thousand mile radius, and worse of all, the town's library isn't open for public." Belle, who seconds ago had felt really optimistic, suddenly began to doubt herself after seeing that there wasn't anything helpful in the paper. "How is it even possible for a town not to have any places to rent?" she muttered._

_"If Henry were here," Emma joked, "he would say it's all because of the curse and it's omnipotency." Then, she started to really think about it. "Maybe the kid isn't that far off. Haven't you noticed this town is already kinda weird?" Belle raised an eyebrow in sarcasm, and Emma chuckled. "Oh did you just figure that out on your own? Kudos for it sis" _

_The eyebrow remained raised. _

_"One would think this place would have things open for tourists, just in case." Belle had a point, Emma knew. "I mean, it's a nice town in coastal Maine. tourists are supposed to be flocking to this place once in a while."_

_"Maybe they just run everybody off with the town's 'peculiarities'" Emma offered, not completely joking._

_"Oh, Emma you are so mean," Belle laughed, turning up the music on the radio as her favorite song of The Black Eyed Peas came on and she sang along. "_Turn up the radio, blast the stereo right noooow!_" she belched, off key._

_"_The joint is fizziling, it's sizzling riiiiight nooow,_" Emma laughed, singing with a more in tune key than her friend ."I love this song... Wait a second, Belle, isn't that Mary Margaret?" She said, looking in the distance to a lone figure walking in the opposite direction of where their car was going. _

_Belle tuned down the music a bit and mouthed a puzzled "What?" _

_"Over there, in the road, that person walking. Doesn't she look like Henry's teacher?" Emma pointed out._

_"Why would Mary Margaret be out at this time of the night?" Belle wondered, as puzzled as Emma. "It's pretty late."_

_"I don't know, but she looks kinda down. Come on, pull over and let's ask her if she wants a ride." Maybe it was the night out with her best friend that had mellowed Emma visibly, or the fact a buried __part of her recognized that dejected posture as very similar to her own when something was wrong. ,Nevertheless Belle did not complain about it, and, secretly ecstatic at the fact Emma showed interest in the woman Henry claimed was her mother, drove straight to the figure in the distance, rolling down the window._

_"Mary Margaret!" Belle chirped with her habitual good humor, seeing Emma had been right._

_Henry's teacher looked up at the Mercedes, startled and gave them a feeble smile. "Sophie, Emma! What are you guys doing out so late?"_

_"Single girl's night drinks and dinner," Emma replied from her window, the one that faced Mary directly. "And we could ask you the same thing. Why the face?" _

_Mary sighed and groaned at Emma's interest. _Great, just what I needed, to give Emma this pathetic impression of myself.

_"Rough night?" Belle ventured a guess, and Mary Margaret hung her head in defeat._

_"Is it that obvious?" the teacher said, sadly. The two women in the car nodded. "I had a date," Mary admitted._

_"A crappy one, for the looks of it," Emma said, tactless as usual. Belle drove an elbow into her side, but she did not give any sign of noticing it. Seeing Mary so sad, and feeling a twinge of pity for her stir in her insides, Emma sighed. "You know what, you look like you could use a pity party. Come on, climb inside and tell us all about it."_

_Belle looked at Emma, not really surprised at her attitude. After all, while she really could be a little rough around the edges, and most of the time she did not like to let people in, Emma had a heart just as big as hers, and had a weakness when it came to stray animals, and people, in hindsight. "She's right, get in. We have a couple of bottles of wine in the back, and you look like you could use one." Mary Margaret looked at their car both hopeful and skeptic, so Belle nudged Emma._

_"Trust me, crappy dates are usually easier to deal with when you have friends to bash the jerk with," Emma offered, not liking how meek Mary looked at the moment._

_Belle nodded in agreement from the driver seat. "Been there, done that, you know the deal," she said, unlocking the doors of the car._

_Laughing, Mary Margaret relented and accepted the offer. "You don't really have to do this, you know? It was just Whale," she sighed, getting on the backseat and slumping her back._

_"No worries, we like you. Well, _I_ like you, I don't know about her," Belle joked, pointing to Emma, who rolled her eyes. "Now, spill, what did Whale do, and who is Whale by the way?"_

_So, Mary Margaret had joined their little duo that night, and told them all about her date between wine glasses at Belle and Emma's room at Granny's. She told them of the slimy doctor who kept looking at Ruby's backside, and how her last dates had not been any better than this one, so she was feeling as if she would never find that true love she so believed in._

_Seeing they were having a pity fest, Belle told her about her previous top 5 most disastrous dates to make her feel better, telling her not to lose hope, that love was out there. Emma, as skeptic and mature as she was, chose instead to go on a feminist rant about why a woman did not need to have a man to be happy with her life. _

_In the end, they ended up watching a couple of chick-flicks in Emma's laptop, complaining about why in the world men of the time were not more like Richard Gere or George Clooney._

_They eventually fell asleep after one too many glasses of wine._

* * *

Emma could remember it all. _So, this is how Mary Margaret ended up here in my bed._ Hearing a groan, she tried to shake her new friend awake.

"Mary Margaret, wake up," Emma tried, feeling guilty at partially instigating the state Mary Margaret was in. The teacher just swatted at her hand, so she just tried another tactic. "Mary, don't you have classes to teach at school?"

This time, Mary did open her eyes, and let out a scream, loud enough to startle Belle awake as well.

"Oh, my god, I slept in, I can't believe I slept in, I am supposed to take my class to the hospital this morning with the rest of the volunteer outreach program!" Mary looked at her wrist watch, her face scrunching up. "I got twenty minutes to get to school!"

Belle checked her watch as well, and put a bad face. "Crap, I was supposed to meet Mr Gold early this morning, too! Why didn't you wake me up, Emma?" she said, scrambling around her suitcase and throwing things as she looked for a suitable change of clothes, while Mary looked for her shoes and her lost purse.

"How am I going to get there in time? Miss Ginger will have my head!" Mary said, finally picking her shoes.

"Emma, did you take my yellow top?" Belle asked.

"Which one?" Emma asked with a raised eyebrow, reminding Belle she had a lot of yellow clothes.

"Long sleeved, peasant style, blue lace trimming, I got it at Forever 21!"

Emma sighed, and shook her head. As neither of the two panicked women running around the room cared to acknowledge her or her hangover, she was forced to intervene.

"STOP!" she shouted, raising her hand to take charge of the situation. Belle and Mary stopped. "OK, last night we drank too much wine. One, it was no one's fault. Two, we are going to deal with this like adults, not like headless chickens, so, right now, nobody in this room is going to hyperventilate, OK?" she said with authority she did not feel. Henry would have said her father would have been proud, but she did not care about that right now. She turned to Mary. "You are going to calm down, and breathe deeply. And you, Belle, are going to give something to Mary Margaret, because she needs a decent change of clothes, and you two look the same size. And that yellow top is in the wardrobe. You OK with that, Belle?"

"Yes, of course," Belle replied, not really surprised at Emma taking charge of the situation. Taking charge of the situation was something she did really well.

"Good. After this, the three of us are going to down two aspirins, and then I'll drive you to the school so you won't be late, and you to Gold's shop, even if you already know what I think of your problem," Emma continued, slipping into a military voice. "Do you both understand?"

Both Belle and Mary nodded in agreement. Mary was staring at Emma with awe. Her total control of the situation was impressive: it reminded her of someone, but she was not sure. It really was a pity that Emma was an orphan, Mary Margaret thought to herself, because Emma was a remarkable woman, and whoever her parents were, she was sure they would have been proud at having such a strong daughter.

"Come on, Mary, I'm sure I have something around that fits you," Belle said, kindly leading her to the pile of clothes strewn in her bed, almost happy to have someone to swap clothes with.

Ten minutes later, after very quick showers, Mary and Belle hurried to dress up and turned to Emma.

"Well?" Belle asked, pointing to her yellow bohemian top and pencil skirt. "Do I look profesional?"

Emma laughed. "You look like a librarian trying to pass for a profesional."

"Good enough for me," Belle shrugged, then they both turned to Mary, whom Belle had all but forced into one of her white summer dresses. Emma raised an eyebrow in sarcasm at Belle, who merely smiled innocently.

"I hate to say this, but I kinda get the Snow White reference," Emma mouthed, looking at the very uncomfortable Mary Margaret. Seeing how she seemed to be about to hyperventilate at the fact the white flowing summer dress lacked sleeves, Emma took pity on her. "You look great, but you're missing something..." She made her way to a pile of disorganized tops in Belle's bed, and smiled, handing the teacher a cream colored cardigan, very similar to the ones she had seen her wear before. "There you go, Mary Margaret, much better."

"Thank you, Emma, and you too Belle. You guys didn't need to be this kind, considering you both barely know me," Mary said almost driven to tears.

Emma did not say anything, already feeling unsettled enough by the fact that, for some reason, she felt some sort of kinship with Mary Margaret after knowing her for so little. Belle took the lead and smiled at Mary.

"No worries, Emma and I know how to recognize someone feeling in a dump when we see it," she said, grinning with her usual sunny attitude. "Us castaways have to look after each other if we can, don't you think so?"

"Yeah," Mary said, smiling a genuine dimpled smile, "we have to."

"Come on, Mary Margaret, I'll take you to school. Maybe I can even get to see Henry if I'm lucky."

"Why don't I take her?" Belle piped up, slipping into her coat. "I'm heading for Mr Gold's pawnshop, Henry's school is on the way and, let's face it, Ems, my car is faster than yours."

Mary had to conceed that Belle had a point, no matter how much she wanted to take Emma up on her offer. "Don't worry, the kids have the rest of the day free after we visit the hospital," she offered as a sort of consolation, wanting to give Emma a bit of hope. "I'm sure that, if I mention to Henry you are having lunch at Granny's, he will be clever enough to figure out the rest."

Emma smiled, and feigned outrage. "Mary Margaret, shocking! Are you saying you would willfully encourage Henry to continue to get to know me?"

"I said no such thing," Mary said innocently, then grinned when Emma cracked a smile. "I just think he's happier now that you are here."

"Funny, you are the second person that tells me that this week."

"Then, perhaps you should start believing it," Mary said patting Emma's arm.

"Now, off you go, leave, now, out," Emma scolded, rushing them when she saw the time, "before either of you bursts a vein."

"Meet you up for lunch at Granny's?" Belle mumbled, rushing out the door, limping while she put on her last remaining shoe and carelessly holding a handbag on the other side.

"Yes, and remember what I said, if anything happens..."

"I know, the deal is off." Belle sighed. "Come on, Mary Margaret!" She was almost down the hallway.

"Thanks again for everything, Emma" Mary said, giving Emma a quick hug before running after Belle.

Once those two were finally gone, Emma walked to the window and watched them get in the car and drive away. Feeling exhausted, she let herself fall into her temporary bed, and resolving to get a little more rest, she yawned. "I really need to stop taking in strays," was all she muttered to herself in the emptyness of the room.

* * *

"So, how did you two meet?" Mary Margaret asked, trying to start a conversation in the car. The previous night, she had learned that they were not related, that they were just very good friends, so she felt a bit of curiosity.

"It's a long story. Bottom line is, we were both sort of homeless _once upon a time_," Belle tried to explain with as less detail as possible, "and things had been a bit rough for both of us, so Emma and I, reluctantly at first, formed a team, and figured two heads worked better than one."

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked, Henry tells me Emma is an orphan too, so I should have assumed her life has been less than ideal," Mary tried to apologize.

"No, it's okay, if our lives hadn't been hard in the beginning Emma and I wouldn't be friends," Belle explained, shaking her head. "Back then, I was very confused, and a little too naive for my own good, and Emma... she was this sort of no-nonsense army sister that did not put up with anybody's crap. I don't know why she never got rid of me, but I'll always be thankful for her taking me under her wing."

"I know the feeling, you both treated me yesterday like if we had known each other for years. I mean, I have friends here, but last night, it was different. It felt nice to be welcome to shout out my troubles for a night. It was liberating."

"Emma has that effect on people, she makes you feel so much stronger than you really are... it's like freedom."

"You are lucky to have her as a friend."

"I know, and she is lucky to have you as well. You have been the nicest person towards her in this town, and with this whole Regina thing going on, it's good to know she has someone looking out for Henry at school."

"I was just being kind, I'm sure it's no big deal. Everybody deserves to be treated like that."

"But not everybody does, and Emma... she's used to getting the other end of the stick. She doesn't trust people often, but last night was proof that you are growing on her. And coming from Emma Swan, that's actually a big development," Belle confided, "so try not to turn around and betray her trust, okay?"

"I would never do that," Mary Margaret gasped, outraged. "I like Emma, I would never do anything to hurt her." And, somehow, Mary knew, down in the depths of her being, that she would be very upset if someone else did.

"I'm glad, because it's good for her to know she can trust again."

* * *

Some time later, while Mary Margaret was busy taking her children to the hospital to decorate it and cheer up patients, and Emma was discreetly inquiring about the lack of useful real state in Storybrooke, Belle was entering Mr Gold's pawnshop, trying very hard to ignore the growing sensation on her stomach that was a result of both nerves and lack of a propper breakfast.

"You are late, dearie," the thick Scottish voice remarked as soon as she entered. Belle welcomed her headache this time. Mr Gold was sitting behind the counter, waiting for her, apparently, and she decided she might as well give up all pretense of pretending he had not been expecting her to be desperate enough to come back.

"But I'm here, and I decided to take the deal you offered me," she said, squaring her shoulders, her blue eyes determined.

"I suspected that from the look of your attire," Mr Gold said, eyeing her up and down. "Please, come inside, I believe there is a matter of a job interview first."

"I thought you said nobody else would be willing to take the job."

"It doesn't mean I would let any stranger work in here, Miss Reed. Some of the artifacts in here are quite valuable, hence the difficulty of finding good help," Mr Gold said, not meeting her eyes, and for some reason she did not want to meet his too. _Damn it, really, why did I have that dream?_

"I understand," Belle replied, nodding.

"Have you brought your resume?" he asked, continuing the charade. A job interview was an easy way of getting into formal territory, and it also gave him a free pass on personal questions, which was something he relished. He was coming to understand that this new Belle was somewhat more closed off with the information she gave away to strangers.

_Atta girl_. Why had she not been in possession of _that_ particular trait when she met Regina by the road?

"Here it is." She had come prepared this time, and was fully aware that her resume contained more recommendation letters than it did useful information, but what could she say that he would not deduce himself after a brief leafing of it?

Mr Gold did not even bother opening the manila folder containing her resume. He simply motioned for her to follow him into a small office in the back of the pawn shop and nodded. "Have a seat, then," was all he said.

The small office was immaculate, lined with a few frames of priceless artwork, but no personal pictures, which told Belle a bit about the man in front of her. He limped away and sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, while she took the chair in the front, ready for the first question of her interview. The man did not disappoint.

After reviewing the list of jobs his Belle had been to over the years, Mr Gold wished, more than anything, to strangle the unlucky fellow that had sent her somewhere outside of his reach when the curse hit.

"I see here that your employment record isn't particularly good. The longest job you have been able to hold was for six months. Would you care to tell me why is that, Miss Reed? Especially since many of these jobs vary in general zip code location." He started off with an easy question, a question any employer might ask when seeing her checkered resume, filled with short jobs and glowing recommendations. He assumed the movings were voluntary, but he wanted to hear her say it.

"My sister, Emma, and I, move a lot. That, of course, means I have to find a new job every few months."

"Why the constant nomadism, my dear? One would think you were both running from something," Mr Gold asked again. She had yet again confirmed his suspicion: living with the Savior must have altered her lifestyle quite a bit.

Belle laughed, nodding. "Everybody usually assumes that. The truth is, we move mostly because we want to," she admitted. "I like it, I mean why stay in one place when there is always some new place to discover?" Belle tentatively reached for a strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear. "And Emma usually gets bored of any place we try longer than six months."

"What was it about California that you liked so much? It's the longest job you had, at a three-stars restaurant, no less."

Belle's eyes turned a bit happier at the memory before she answered. "The sun." Her eyes held so much sincerity, looking at him, and he remembered how much she had liked the sun in early spring. "In California, the sun is almost always shining, and there is this sense of freedom in the air, especially in San Francisco. The restaurant I worked at had this beautiful view of the Golden Gate Bridge, and since I had to be there early in the morning, I would usually get to see this splendid sunrise..." Belle realized she was getting carried away, but Mr Gold, unlike many people, actually seemed interested.

"If it was so wonderful, then why did you move away?"

"We didn't have a reason to stay," was all she said, with a sad wistful look on her face. "Eventually, the novelty of a new adventure wears off, no matter how beautiful the landscape is... San Francisco was no exception."

"You have had many adventures?" He wondered if she knew it had been her dream to have them. He wondered if the Savior had, inadvertently, helped his true love fulfill them.

"More than you could count," she replied with a sad smile. "I've done everything I've always dreamed of doing." And, for a moment, she was there, his Belle, looking at him straight in the eye, smiling, a shard on counciousness creeping around the curse after breaking a small part of the barrier, just to let him know she had done it, that she had achieved what she wanted most. But, as fast as he had seen her telltale determined glint appear in her face, it was gone, replaced by the usual dull glow only the curse could give to Belle's eyes. "I'm sorry, does that sound crazy to you?" she mumbled, apologetic.

What did she have to be apologetic about? It was not like she was being forced to watch his true love not remember her like a bad soap opera. No, that was punishment for him and him only, so he shook his head and continued on his mock interview.

"Not at all, I also note that all of your previous employers have sung praises to your work, which, I admit, is rather varied. Who would have guessed a girl like you would be tea girl material?" He could not resist asking that when he read that she worked as a tea girl in some sort of Chinese cafe in Delaware. Seeing her face scrunching in indignation he tried not to smile, that was the Belle he remembered.

"Times were difficult, and one can't just turn down a job these days," she argued, closing her fists. The tea shop job was one of those she really had loved, along with being a file clerk at Barnes and Nobles and her last job. "And I'll have you know I am very good at serving tea."

"I am happy to hear it," Mr Gold remarked with a chuckle, "since making tea will most likely be one of your duties if I do hire you."

"Speaking of tea... I wanted to ask..."

"Questions at the end, Miss Reed. Right now, I am the one conducting the interview."

"Oh, of course," Belle replied politely. She hated to be shut out. She knew it, he knew it, but Mr Gold was currently going to ignore it. "Any other discrepancies you see fit to mention about my resume?" she asked with gritted teeth.

"Only one," and then he was looking at her, eyes an unnatural shade of brown that looked more warm within the passing seconds, and Belle suddenly had a flashback to that freaky dream where she was kissing him, and did not want to stop.

Which begged to address several questions. _Am I insane? What's wrong with me?_ and _Do I really need to go back to counselling?_ "Belle, you are losing your mind," she mumbled under her breath to herself.

Startled by hearing her refer to herself as Belle, and not Sophie, Mr Gold's gaze bore a little harder into her. "I'm sorry, miss Reed, what did you say?"

"Nothing, just..." She shook her head "What is it in my resume?"

"Well, I noticed that, further than five years, there is no record of employment, neither there is any activity in the background check I did on you before you came in." He did not say it with malice, or accusingly, like she had come to expect from people who found out about her unfortunate situation, but neither was he kind or pitying about it. He just seemed... curious. "Anyone in my position would make a varying assortment of assumptions with that kind of information, but I am a fair man, and will give you the oportunity to explain yourself first, given the circumstances."

Belle smiled. It wasn't surprising he had seen fit to do a background check on her: he looked like the kind of man that did not let details slip away, and this was the first time someone let her explain before jumping into conclusions, so she was a bit grateful for it.

"I had an accident," she said, and her voice sounded rehearsed, sore, like if she had repeated that same thing to too many people in the past. "Six years ago, something happened, I don't remember what, I don't remember why, something just did... and it wiped out my memory." Belle looked at her hands, wishing desperately for him not to judge her like many did. "My family, my friends, everything I knew..." Belle chuckled darkly. "Everything I was... simply vanished."

"Six years ago?" He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. _Why six? Why has the curse only affected Belle for six years and not the usual twenty eight? And, better yet, why didn't she have her memories replaced? What happened to her must have been either a glitch in the curse... or a very bad portal work job. Jefferson better be prepared for a nasty deal-making visit soon._ "It must have been hard, waking up like that. Pray tell, how did you manage by yourself?"

Again, he seemed interested in her, and some buried part of her was glad he cared. "I did not" Belle replied, fidgetting. "I met Emma while I was at the hospital, and some time after I was released she took me in." It was the truth, more or less, but Mr Gold did not need the whole story. "If it hadn't been for her, I probably would have had a harder time and suffered a lot more than I did, adjusting after the accident."

Belle thought back to those first months, re-learning to use kitchen appliances and getting electrocuted by light sockets. Emma had been there, all through the embarrassing process Belle had undergone, learning to live in the modern world again, complaining but helping her nevertheless, teaching her little by little untill she learned to do things by herself. "She did not know me any better than I knew myself or her, but it did not matter to her, she still took me in... in a way, Emma saved my life." Belle spoke with tenderness and affection, one of someone who cares earnestly for the subject of her words.

Mr Gold's eyes softened. He would have to think of a way to reward the Savior for taking such good care of Belle. Curse or not, she had shown she cared about his true love enough to protect her against Rumplestiltskin himself. She probably had done a lot of protecting during those six years, and he would find a way to reward Emma Swan for that which she did not know deserved a reward. "I understand now why you are so willing to do anything to help her, it's remarkable."

"No, you must think it's silly," Belle smiled to herself. "Me sticking close to Emma just because she helped me out of a tight spot six years ago."

"Miss Reed, I do not make a habit out of lying. I actually do think your devotion to your friend is admirable, it speaks well of your overall character." And he could also still read her very well, seeing she must be used to people undermining her because of her closeness with Emma, who looked in by herself as a sketchy being at best, considering her past. He understood now why Belle had been so defensive about Emma on their first meeting: the daughter of Charming and Snow did not have a past as clean as Belle's, and by being in constant association with her, people who knew of the Savior's past must have been driven to think ill of Belle also. What a shame.

"Thank you, that's really nice of you to say." She smiled brilliantly. Why did this man's oppinion count so much? Why did she want to inch just a little close to him, why, why, why... Belle dropped her eyes to her lap. No way, she was in a job interview... _Get it in your head Belle, this isn't a date._

"Very well. From what I see, there is no reason why I shouldn't hire you, do you have any questions?" Oh, he knew she had many questions. She would not be herself if she did not, and he was right, Mr Gold smiled watching the light appear in Belle's eyes full force.

"Are you always so formal? What will be my duties working for you? Do you have family I should know about?" She was about to ask more, but he cut her off.

"Yes, I tend to always be this formal, miss Reed." Mr Gold replied, hiding his chuckle. "Your duties will, for now, be simply to be there when I need you. I am hiring you as my personal assistant, because, as you must have heard around town from busybodies such as Ms Lucas, I don't only own this pawn shop, but have hold of the mayority of this town's establishments, meaning that, most of the time, I find myself with too many taxes, incomes and percentages to deduce and too little time." He looked straight at her. "Your duty will be, of course, to make my life easier." He was essentially giving her back the job she had before the curse hit, only with the added benefits of democracy and modern facilities, Mr Gold mused to himself.

Belle immediately took out a notepad and started writing. "I understand."

"You will serve my meals and make sure my house is cleaned to perfection." He smiled, flashing her that set of scary teeth that did not seem to faze her at all. When Belle quirked an eyebrow in _dejá vu_, he decided to clarify ."Storybrooke doesn't have a decent cleaning service I can use, so it falls unto you to arrange for something suitable. I trust you can hire a competent maid?"

"Oh, yes, of course, I get it," she stuttered. her hand woobly holding the pen, suddenly experiencing a little bit of tunnel vision. Her headache pounded a bit harder and she tried to steady her breathing, since it would do her no good to faint in front of Mr Gold.

Mr Gold, seeing this, decided to push her memory a bit more, knowing she might be remembering. "You will dust my shop, do inventory of my collection, and take my clothes to the laundry."

"Yes, I understand."

Suddenly, Belle's vision suddenly went blank, along with the explosion of her head.

_She blinked once, twice, thrice, then abruptly she was in another different place altogether, not sitting in a office like she was moments ago, but standing, wearing a yellow ball gown, listening to quite the same instructions in a medieval style dinning room, watching a very scaly version of Mr Gold regale her with a disdainful expression._

_"You will fetch me fresh straw when I am spinning at the wheel," the strange lizard-like Mr Gold said, and Belle felt herself responding._

_"Got it," her voice said with a heavier accent than the one she really had. She saw she had in her hands the tea set she had seen the previous day in the pawn shop, and was pouring tea in one of the cups. When had that got to her hands?_

_"Oh, and you will skin the children I hunt for their pelts," he said with a high pitched tone that was __unlike the Scottish brogue the real Mr Gold used on her. Startled, Belle had a "what the hell?" moment and dropped the cup she had in her hands. Bending immediately to the floor, her heart jumped in fear of what he might do. "That one was a quip. Not serious."_

_"Right. Oh... My. I'm so sorry but, uh... It's... it's chipped," she said, holding the cup to eye level. "You—you can hardly see it."_

_"Oh, it's just a cup," the lizard man said._

"Miss Reed... Miss Reed... are you all right?" Mr Gold's voice returned Belle back to the present abruptly, then as fast as the tunnel vision had come it was gone, leaving in its wake only the faint memory of a strange lizard-like Mr Gold saying those words. "It's just a cup."

"Oh, I'm sorry, what? Guess I must have zoned out."

"I said you dropped your pen." He motioned to the notepad in her hands, and the pen that had just clattered to the floor. Nodding and feeling distraught, Belle retrieved it.

"Oh yes... the pen. I'm sorry, you were saying something about fresh straw?" She caught her tongue when she saw Mr Gold's eyes widen. "No, fresh laundry, that was what you said right, me having to take care of your laundry?"

Mr Gold smiled again, this time indulgently. He had felt worried when he saw the lost look on Belle's face, and then, when she mentioned fresh straw, it made it a bit scary for him. Because, why else would she mention fresh straw? He had to admit he was not ready for that just yet.

"I was also saying that, as my PA, you will need to be aware of all the paperwork I do, organize my appointments with my tenants and, of course, keep all the information in order so I might have an easier time accessing it."

"Will I have a defined schedule, then?"

"You? No. It's one of the drawbacks of the position, you see, since it means early morning breakfasts and being at my beck and call twenty four hours a day, though I am not compleatly heartless, your position comes with Sundays off, an hour long lunch break each day and, of course, unless I specifically need you to work overnight, I will consider your duties finished at seven PM."

"It's not that bad. I think I can handle it," Belle nodded, the picture of secretarial efficiency. Then, he got up and motioned for her to follow, which she did, dutifully with her notepad in hand.

"This office is where I conduct the mayority of my buisiness. The rest, I do at home, in my private studio," he began listing, then he turned around, trying to keep all his composture. If he wanted to keep up this charade, he needed to treat her like a normal person he was hiring. He could not give Regina a reason to go after her, but bloody hell, having her this close, with her perfectly brilliant smile lighting up the darkness of his shop was proving to be harder than he thought, so he avoided looking into her eyes whenever possible. "I would suggest that, since from now on you are to be working for me, to acquaint yourself with the location of all things in my home as soon as possible, since I do most of my work from there when I don't want to be disturbed."

"I will try to do my job the best way I can, sir," she said nodding, then her eyes dropped in sadness. Sure, she had been in harder spots before, and this was by no means the worst job she had been hired in (that hot dog stand in Miami she had worked at took the prize for sure), but she still felt a bit saddened by the cold way he was treating her.

"You don't like the situation much, do you?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr Gold."

"I just hired you for a position that leaves you next to no free time, has you at the beck and call of the scariest man in town and pays only half the amount it should. By all means, Miss Reed, it's not a ideal situation." He knew she had the most adorable habit of hiding her true feelings out of bravery, and he liked it when she was honest with him.

"Well, of course it isn't, but if I do this... Emma will be okay, won't she?" Belle raised her big hopeful blue eyes, and he was reminded of her last sacrifice, her life and freedom for those of her people. This time, what made it more impressive was the fact it was the Savior's comfort she was bargaining for.

"You have my word, as long as you keep your agreement with me, I will do anything in my power to make sure your friend's safety is a priority." He did not have to tell her he had other, ulterior motives, for keeping that promise, and that he had chosen his words with care, using the word safety, as opposed to the words comfort, or happiness, both of which he could not guarantee, not even out of love for Belle.

"Then it's enough for me, at least for now." Belle nodded, knowing he was being sincere. "I'll work for you to pay off my debt for what I did to your car, but in return you will make sure Emma is safe. OK?" She offered up her hand.

"It's a deal, dearie," he replied taking her dainty hand in his, feeling the warmth of it and wishing he could hold on to it a bit longer.

Feeling a bit put off by her strange feelings of tenderness, Belle removed her hand first, and turned to look around the shop. "This place is really something," she whispered in awe at the antiques. Mr Gold chuckled at her innate curiosity.

"And you have yet to see my house. I keep the mayority of the valuables I collect in there, so I'm afraid doing inventory will take you more time than you imagine."

"I'm sure it won't be a problem," she shrugged, trying not to appear too giddy at the artifacts. Then, once again, she was drawn to the shelf that had the tea sets, and realized the one she had admired the day before wasn't there at all.

"Looking for this?" Mr Gold said from the counter, the missing tea set delicately shown on a silver tray in front of him.

"Yesterday, you said that, if I came back you would tell me the story," Belle said, perking up and reaching him in a second, counting the cups in the tray. One, two, three. "But there's still one of them missing," she said, sadly.

"I did say I would tell you, didn't I?" Mr Gold pretended to muse, barely holding back a smile as he watched Belle's curiosity get the best of her once again. He withdrew a black ornate wood box from a drawer under the counter and pushed it towards her. "There it is," he said after a moment of consideration.

Almost reverently, Belle looked at him for permission to open it, and when she did, she saw it, the missing cup... the chipped cup. "It's chipped," she whispered to herself more than to him, lost in tracing with her fingers each of the porcelain details of the object that felt like a memory. After raising it to her eye level, she sighed content. "You can barely see it," she said smiling. Why did it feel right to say those words, she did not know, all she knew was that this pocelain cup meant something. "I've seen this cup before... somewhere... I know I have." She turned her eyes away from the chipped cup and looked at Mr Gold, clearly puzzled. "Did you buy it from somewhere? I'm just very sure I know where it comes from."

"I'm afraid not, this particular tea set was a personal comission a client of mine had an artisan make. Therefore, as you might guess, it's one of a kind, so it's impossible for copies to exist." _Like you_, he wanted to whisper. He hated lying to her, but, in a way, there was a certain truth in his words. The fact that said client had been a giant, and the artisan a tinker fairy was not something he was willing to reveal under the circumstances. "Does it seem familiar to you?" he asked, hopeful.

"You are going to think I'm crazy," Belle chuckled, "but I swear I've seen it before."

"Maybe you have," Mr Gold replied criptically, turning away from her before he could say something else and leaving Belle with the feeling he knew more about her than he was letting on.

"So, why is the chipped cup so special?" Belle continued prodding. "Yesterday, you said it reminded you of someone you lost, what happened?" She did not know why she was prying into his personal life, but, like the cup that felt like a treasure she did not know she had been searching for all her life, this was important.

How could he explain it was special because of her? How could he twist the words in a manner so that the curse would overlook it? Finally Mr Gold gave it his best shot. "I was in love once," He told her, in the same voice she had used when she confided in him about her accident. "She liked that cup very much, because the day we met, she chipped it."

"What happened to her?"

"I lost her," Mr Gold replied, sadly. "We had a fight, she left and I did not go after her. Eventually someone told me she died." _And I believed the bloody liar._

Belle eyed him sympathetically. "You should have gone after her," she whispered, feeling the same sadness. "She would have come back."

"I know, but I was afraid. I knew I did not deserve her."

"Ever thought that she knew it too?" In her heart, she felt that, if she were that woman, she would have fought harder for him.

"Nevertheless, I will never know, will I? She's too far for me to reach." _Too close and yet too far_. Rumplestilskin wanted to scream. He was seeing flashes of the old her come and go through the conversation, but, since the fabric of the curse was so fragile, tearing it open could have unintended consequences for his Belle, and he did not know what to do.

"Don't lose hope, Mr Gold," Belle said, trying to get on a lighter topic, feeling she was edging to personal territory with her new boss. After putting the chipped cup back in the box, she smiled. "After all, like Emma says, we never know what the future brings."

Mr Gold saw her motion and nodded. Suddenly, Belle's stomach grumbled, and both of them smiled. "I suppose we wasted away the morning already, come back here after you have had lunch, Miss Reed, please."

"Do I need to bring you lunch too?"

Suddenly before he could respond to her inquiry the bell above the shop's door rang, and Regina walked in like she owned the place, almost choking on her own spit when she saw who was standing next to Rumplestilskin.

"Gold?" she said with her most forced smile, her gaze colliding with his, both in fear and full fledged anger. "Who is this?" Regina Mills felt herself go apple red in anger.

"Regina, dear, I forgot you both don't know each other," Mr Gold said nonchalant. He was hoping to avoid letting the queen see his ex-caretaker, but since now it could not be avoided, he decided to play it on his rules. "Madame Mayor, this here is Miss Sophie Reed. Miss Reed, this here is Regina Mills, the mayor of Storybrooke."

As soon as she heard the name, the magic still inherent in his last command, forced Regina to take a step back away from Belle, since he had specifically stated Regina should "stay away" from her.

"So, you are the famous newcomer that came with Miss Swan?" Regina said, gritting her teeth as she tried to appear pleasant.

Belle, on the contrary, had taken one look into Regina's eyes, and her instinct had told her to run for the hills as soon as possible. Regina's glare enough had such a bad effect on her, she felt the need to vomit suddenly assault her senses. "Nice to meet you, too, Madame Mayor. I've heard many things about you already," she answered with a queasy smile.

"Miss Reed weren't you going to have lunch? You must know, I won't have any use for a starving PA anytime soon," Mr Gold interrupted, hating any form of contact betweeth Belle and Regina.

"Oh, yes, of course, I'll be back in an hour," Belle nodded, feeling that the tension between the mayor and the pawnbroker could be cut with a knife. Waving a polite farewell, she hurried out the door.

It dawned on her the...He never answered if he had any family..

"Such a obedient girl, pity she's not smarter than to make deals with me, don't you think, Regina?" Mr Gold said, coldly looking in the direction she had dissapeared, making it a point to appear as though he did not know his true love at all.

"Yes," Regina mumbled to herself, wary and angry. "A pity to be sure." The curse might be making sure Gold did not remember, but having him and Belle in close quarters was something even Maleficient would call dangerous, and she did not need any unnecesary complications. So, when she left Gold's shop, she picked up her mobile phone and dialed a number. "Sydney, honey, I need you to do me a favor," she said as she walked away from the pawnshop.

**So far, this is what I'm posting. Special thanks to all my reviews and the people who follow. Today, I have no inputs about the chapter since I'm very bad at writing Rumbelle scenes, so, yeah, I liked writing the chipped cup scene, because sweet scenes come easy for me. Mary Margaret getting drunk with Belle and Emma... well that really did come out of nowhere. **

**Next chapter, we will see what was that favor Regina comissioned Sydney with, and Frederick and Jefferson will both have their own cameos, because I'm dying out here, dying to introduce Jefferson to the plot. By the way, this sudden burst of inspiration is thanks to my friend Raymond, who is an ass but has his good guy moments. If girl writers have muses, then Ray is mine. He destroys all my WB with his witty commentary and sarcastic teasing of my plot holes. ****_(An: no Milarqui it doesn't mean I'm replacing you, you are irrrepalceable anyway, plus Ray might be a muse but he hasn't got a clue about propper grammar)_**

**Comment, people! I like hearing your thoughts!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi guys, guess who's updating today? Yes, me! So, so far this has been the single most uneventful time lapse in my life since I've started writing, which serves to show why, in my stories, things will be getting a little too eventful, so eventful, in fact, that you might be looking for a double update this week, weather and time permitting, but I make no promises.**

**Now you know the drill:**

**All rights reserved to the owners of OUAT, I don't own anything *tears blah blah blah... **

**Also, please thank my beta, Milarqui, he is awesome!**

**Now, on with what's important!**

**Chapter fourteen: Revelations, revelations.**

Lunch with Emma, Henry and Mary Margaret had been very nice, with Henry chattering away their ears off about everything in his book, happy to be basking in the attention of three women who stared at him with the same indulgent smiles at his cuteness and enthusiasm.

"And you think that the guy in a coma in the ICU, is in, fact, my husband?" Mary summarized after Henry had explained his theory about the people of Storybrooke actually being fairy tale characters, and that the man in coma at the hospital was actually Prince Charming.

"And my father, don't you forget that," Emma said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Belle almost choked on her tea, trying to stifle her laughter, and Mary calmly hid her smile under the pretext of patting Belle's back.

"But you are Snow White, and he is Prince Charming!" Henry continued, adamantly. "You guys are supposed to be together, like soul mates!"

Mary and Emma kept silent, trying to think of something to say that would not hurt the boy. However, before any of them could speak up, Belle did so, braving the battlefield.

"Sweetie, you know I love the idea of a happy ending as much as you do, but... John Doe is not just sleeping, he is in a coma. Even if he were, in fact, the real Prince Charming, waking him up would probably take a lot of work, and remember, you could always be wrong." It was like walking on eggshells, Belle thought, as she extended her hand to take his, and used her most persuasive voice.

"She is right, Henry." Emma sighed, silently mouthing a _you are a saint_in Belle's direction. "Let's say that he wakes up, but turns out not to be Mary's Prince. Would you even want her to waste time on the wrong guy?"

"But, what if he is, and she spends her whole life separated from him? What if I'm right?"

"Eh, guys, I'm still here," the meek schoolteacher spoke up, finally getting an in in the argument. "Shouldn't I have a say in this, too? Because, you know, it's my love life you are discussing and all of that." Three heads whipped around to stare at her, making Mary Margaret suddenly feel self-conscious about speaking up.

Emma was looking at her, her eyebrow raised and her thoughts clearly broadcasted through her eyes, something along the lines _John Doe is in a coma, Mary, and I know that you had a bad date yesterday, but, still, I hope you aren't planning to follow this, don't you?_Belle was looking at her, pleading with her eyes and with her head leaning towards Henry, as if saying _Try to break it to him gently_, and Henry... well, Henry just looked hopeful. Which almost broke her heart.

"I think," Mary Margaret said, thinking her words carefully, and looking into Henry's eyes, "that you want me to be happy." She refused to look at Emma or Belle, speaking only to the boy who was her favorite student. "And you think that, if I find Prince Charming, I'll be happy. It's very sweet of you to worry about me like that, Henry."

"But, you don't think Mr Doe will ever wake up, don't you?" Henry sighed, disappointed, but then he perked up. "I have an idea. Why don't you read to him?"

"Henry, you heard Mary already," Emma scolded her son, but Belle interrupted her.

"Actually, Emma, studies have shown that reading to coma patients actually helps increase brain activity," she piped up, remembering something she had read in a magazine. "It's been proved that speaking, singing or reading to them actually helps them wake up faster.

"You are not helping, Sophiepedia," Emma muttered towards her friend.

Mary Margaret did not hear what Emma had said. Instead, she was thinking about the feelings she seemed to have about John Dow waking up. Every day she went to the hospital to volunteer, he was the one patient she always felt compelled to visit. What color were his eyes? She had a feeling they were blue, like Emma's. She was not sure why. It was just that she could not imagine him having green or brown eyes: in her mind, an awake John Doe had blue eyes, and a dazzling smile that could melt her insides. Even though she had never seen him awake, she knew in her heart that it was true, so she made her mind.

"I'll read to him tonight!"

"What?" Three pair of eyes focused again on her.

"Belle said it might help him wake up. And, regardless of his fairy tale identity, if it helps him, then I'll do it. What harm could it bring to just read some fairy tales to a coma patient?"

"See, I knew you would want him to wake up," Henry said, grinning as if he had been granted his life long wish. "Here, take my book, read him the story of Snow White and Prince Charming."

"You really are a little persistent person, aren't you?" Mary Margaret asked with a laugh. "OK, I'll do what you ask."

"But," Emma hopped up sternly, before he could get more excited, "if she does this and nothing happens, then you have to promise not to push this point again. OK?"

"Fine, I promise." Henry pouted, but then looked at Mary and Belle smiling. "But something will happen, I know it. You just wait, Prince Charming and Snow White are meant to be together, they always find each other."

"Anybody else in this table think he's just the cutest thing?" Belle cooed with the awe of a dimple pinching aunt, Mary and Emma just laughed and continued eating and discussing other things.

"You know, if you are still looking for a place to stay, I was thinking I still have an empty bedroom at my place. If you want, you could stay with me for a while until something better becomes available," Mary offered to her friends.

"You know, the offer doesn't even sound half bad." Emma nodded between bites and looked at Belle. "What do you think, Sophie?"

"I think she would end up kicking us out in the blink of an eye," Belle snorted playfully. "The two of us would drive her crazy, with our drunk dancing and chick flick watching antics." Then she lowered her voice, pretending to whisper secretly to Mary. "Emma doesn't know how to cook."

Hearing that, Emma rolled her eyes and leaned in to whisper to Mary too. "And Belle snores."

"I assure you both, I have a microwave, and I don't mind the snoring." Mary laughed, shaking her head. "Nothing either of you could do would drive me crazy. I deal with elementary school kids all the time."

"Hey!" Henry protested at being compared to the silly pair of adults.

"Say what, add in the offer of a couch for this one here, and we'll think about it," Emma said, pointing to Belle and pretending to ponder.

"Hey, why do I have to take the couch and you the bed, princess lazy-butt?" Belle grumbled, because they'd had the same situation a few times in the past, and Belle always ended up in the couch.

"Because you kick in your sleep?" Emma shot back with playful banter. "Oh, and yeah, because you snore!" Then she pretended to lower her voice. "*cough*like a nerd*cough*"

"Mary, you can still take back the offer, we won't think any less of you if you do," Belle said with a tired sigh at Mary Margaret's mirthful face, who, along with Henry, was trying to hold onto her laughter.

"I do have a good couch, and the offer still stands," Mary said, thinking back to how lonely her apartment felt with just her to fill it. It would feel nice to have people to share it with, even if it was only temporary. She liked the feeling she had that morning, when for the first time in years, she woke up and felt she was not alone anymore.

"Well, I think adapting to having another roommate probably won't be as hard." Emma knew she was telling the truth. So far, Mary Margaret was the only person in this town who had openly welcomed her, apart from Henry and Graham. Taking her up on the offer would be so easy, considering the school teacher's warmhearted temperament. "But we still have to think about it."

"I gotta get back to Mr Gold. What do you say we talk it out tonight and get back at you tomorrow, Mary?" Belle said looking at the clock and realizing it was time to go.

"And I probably need to get back too, I have lots of papers to grade before my date with Mr Doe." Henry laughed.

"Have hope, Miss Blanchard" the kid said with enthusiasm, and it was good to know that both Emma and Mary had their own personal cheerleader right there.

* * *

If she had to describe working with Mr Gold that afternoon in one word... she knew what it would be.

Awkward. And it fell short of how it actually felt.

The man was skittish. A proud, twisted form of skittish, but still skittish. That was the only description Belle could come up with. He hardly talked, and when he did he hardly looked at her in the eyes. He merely limited himself to reciting what he wanted her to do ("complete inventory of the things in this shop, here are the books you will need") and locking himself up in that damned office of his.

The way he acted around her was unlike any former superiors she'd interacted with. Mr Gold acted as though he was expecting her to sprout wings all of a sudden, or turn into a different person.

And, of course, there were the headaches. Those stupid headaches that almost worked like a heat- detecting missile whenever he got too close. The closer Mr Gold was, the stronger the pain in her head got. It was maddening. Especially when she really wished he would talk to her.

In fact, Belle mused to herself, she would very much be happy to resume their earlier conversation about tea, even if it meant enduring the migraines. But her new boss seemed set on avoiding her altogether.

So, when seven rolled around and he dismissed her, Belle was left with a sort of empty cold feeling in her. She did not want to analyze it too much, but it felt too close to the feeling of rejection.

Seven PM was not anywhere close to late at night, but still the chill of early September made her tighten her trenchcoat. Suddenly, Belle felt her phone beep. It was a text from a private number.

_Meet me at 54 of Morrison St, hurry up I need your help._

_Emma_

_Morrison Street?_ Belle tried to remember where that was, and vaguely recalled that it was a dimly lit road not far from the pawnshop. In fact, it was within walking distance. Trusting as she was when it came to Emma, Belle did not stop to think about why she had not used her own phone. She probably really was in trouble, and wondering why she had sent the text so urgently, she began running in the direction she thought was right.

But upon getting to the place she was supposed to meet Emma, Belle found the whole road empty.

In fact it was almost eerily so, and dark too, with just two of the five street lamps being on. Belle began calling Emma's name in all directions, wondering if something had indeed happened to her friend, when she suddenly noticed a glimmering silver object in the middle of the street, which she hurried to pick it up.

Trying to see better, she gasped: it was the phone the text had been sent from. In fact, her number was still flashing in the silver screen. Then, she heard a _creak_, and some faint rustling.

"Hello? Is somebody there? Emma?" Belle called out, and then stopped. Because the next thing she saw was the yellow glare of two bright headlights heading in her direction, and the rumble of a angry engine.

Belle would have moved, she really would have, but the phone seemed to be glued to the ground with some sort of industrial super glue, and in her shock so was her hand. Belle was not stupid, she knew that industrial glue was really hard to break away from: hot water was usually used when things like these happened to the people that worked with it.

The car was heading in her direction, and, panicked, she began pulling at her hand with frantic motions, feeling the pain as the skin on her fingertips began to tear itself from her flesh.

"Help, somebody help me!" she cried in a last ditch effort to save her life. Fortunately, luck, it seemed, was on her side.

"Watch out!" someone cried, as the car headed towards her. Belle felt a shoe come down on the thing her hand was glued to, avoiding her hand but smashing the device to pieces fast enough for her hand to be freed, and knocking her to the sidewalk in one fluid life saving motion.

Gasping in pain, Belle saw that the person that had saved her was a man. Tall, handsome and with a cashmere scarf tied around his neck that made her recognize him at once.

"I remember you," Belle gasped in her daze, smiling at the man who had just saved her, wondering how the heck she had ever forgotten about Jefferson.

"Are you okay?" was the first thing he asked as he helped her to get up, before the screech of returning tires startled them both. In the dim lit street, they watched the car that had tried to kill her swerve back past them and disappear in haste into the darkness.

Yet, as soon as the car passed, Belle felt a painful stab at her side.

"I don't think so" she said, opening her trench coat and touching the place it hurt, her hand coming back red with blood. "No, I don't think I'm okay at all," she choked, feeling her legs suddenly falter.

"Hold on, I got you, just breathe okay, come on, just breathe, keep your eyes open," Jefferson said, feeling the panic at her red hand shoot through him just as the pain shot through her, holding her arm and letting her lean in to him for support.

"Jefferson!" Belle said, trying her hardest to ignore the blood pooling somewhere near the left side of her stomach, her blue eyes recognizing him at once. "I never thought I'd see you again." She was starting to feel weaker, but she still smiled at him.

"You know who I am?" Jefferson's eyes widened at the woman in his arms, surprised, but shook his head when he saw her eyelids wobble.

"A little bit." Belle then let out a grunt of pain. "How do you remember me?" she asked, still keeping her eyes open even though it was very painful.

"Questions for another time, right now we need to get you to the hospital okay? Belle! Belle! Come on, stay with me!" Jefferson immediately took off his scarf, thanking the greater powers he had an ascot underneath, and started pressing at Belle's injury. Seeing the blood that stained her shirt and his, he immediately scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the place his car was parked.

"I'm here, barely though," Belle mumbled, the pain intensifying by the second, as were her few memories of the man that was holding her.

"You think you can hold on until we reach the hospital? It's not that far away," the Hatter wondered, setting her in the passenger seat. Lord knew hell would break loose if word got out to a certain someone that he had let Belle get hurt on his watch, so he selfishly needed her to stay conscious.

"I think I'll manage, but I don't understand... did I get shot?" Pressing the scarf with her own hands to the wound, she struggled to keep herself awake, listening to Jefferson's voice.

"If I had to make a bet I would say yes, and from a long range too, so whoever did this probably wanted to make sure the job was done one way or another and had a silenced gun as a backup plan." He saw her hands faltering in the compress, and felt bile rise to his throat. "Lucky for us, whoever did this, was a lousy shot."

"It hurts a lot," Belle whispered, feeling weaker and weaker, her eyes closing in slow motion.

"No, no, no, no, you said you could make it, Belle, we are almost there, hold on!"

But, by the time they got to the hospital, Belle had already passed out from the pain.

* * *

"Emma Swan, we are calling from Storybrooke's hospital. It says here you are listed as Sophia Reed's emergency contact," was the first thing Emma heard over the phone and at the caller's next words her heart almost stopped. "She was just admitted in for surgery, you might want to come in."

"I'm on my way." _No, Belle, not you!_

* * *

"How is she?" Emma asked the nurse as soon as she got to the hospital, but before the nurse could answer a voice behind her did.

"She's fine," the man in the ascot said easily, looking at her with interest. "She just went in for bullet removal, it did not hit mayor organs, so the worst she can get are stitches."

"And who are you?"

"That's the man that brought her in ma'am," the nurse at the front desk supplied. "And he is right, your sister will be fine."

"You should be thanking me, I brought her here as fast as I could, you know," the man in the ascot said, cryptically. "I'm Jefferson Carter, by the way."

"Emma Swan. Care to tell me why my sister is the hospital?"

"My version of the facts? I was taking a stroll down my favorite dead end street when I saw a pretty lady about to get hit by a car, and I did my best to save her life," Jefferson said, clearly enjoying his first talk with the Savior. The woman had an uncanny resemblance to Snow White up close, in a more hardened sort of way. "Then her side started to bleed, and I figured, best get her to the hospital. You know, these days one has to love small towns, everything is a five minute drive away."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "What do you think HER version of the facts might be?"

"Something along the lines of 'someone lured me into a trap and tried to kill me', perhaps?"

"And you were just conveniently near when that happened, right?"

_No, I just was conveniently near when Her Majesty told her minion she wanted Belle dead and figured I'd keep an eye on her for a few days._ "Would you believe me if I told you I was?"

"No, but you saved my sister's life, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

Jefferson smiled. "I appreciate it, then. And now that you are here, I have no reason to stay, but do tell her, when she is back in the land of the awakened, that it was a pleasure to save her life."

"You know she's going to ask to see you. What do I tell her then?"

"Tell her I was a good Samaritan that doesn't like to be in the spotlight."

"That's a weird thing to say, but if that's what you want..."

"Humor me" Jefferson replied. "I know from experience that, when she wakes up, she probably will be looking for you and not for me." It was a lie, but it was better for Belle to be reminded of Emma's existence first and foremost after she came out of surgery. It would be a good wake-up call just in case she did remember her past life, easing her into the already frail edges of the curse, or at least that was his theory.

"You know I'm going to be asking her a lot of questions when she wakes up, and if I find out that the reason you don't want to stay is something fishy, then so help me God," Emma threatened with a glare, which considering everything, only made Jefferson find the whole situation humorous.

"I promise I have nothing to hide, at least not on that account," he said, holding his hands up in pretend defeat, his face not betraying his amusement. "But, look, I just have some urgent matters that need to be taken care off right now, Emma." He was not lying... yet. But the Savior still looked upon him with a wary face. "Look, I'll prove it to you. Here's my phone number. If Be... Sophie asks about me when she wakes up, just tell her to call me, or if you want to call me, that's fine too," he said, writing his number on a old business card he had in his pocket, and handing it over to Emma.

"Fine, I'll hold you up to that," she replied, waving the card in front of him. Her face, though, was still etched with worry every time the doors of the emergency rooms opened.

"I need to go, but Emma, she's going to be fine," Jefferson tried to reassure her.

"I'll believe that when the doctor says so," was all he got in reply.

* * *

_Three hours later _

Emma did not have any experience in hospital waiting rooms. History dictated she should: after all, she had more battle wounds in her than most people had in their lifetimes, but that was just it. All she knew about hospitals involved her being taken in for something or another.

Not Belle.

Never Belle.

In fact, these things never happened to Belle. She was always the reliable one, the homey one, the level headed of the two. She was the cat of nine lives, who jumped from a building and landed on her feet. God, Belle was usually the one in the waiting room, not her. Emma hated the feeling of being so helpless in the plastic chairs of that hospital. Yet, here she was, and the frustration and guilt waging war inside her were really doing a number on her emotional state.

Emma could remember the many times after taking a tumble or getting shot during her bail bonds job that Belle had been forced to rush her to the hospital, or, in the worst cases, stitch the wounds herself. Emma would come out of the ER, all patched up, brushing aside Belle's protests and promising unsuccessfully to take care of herself better, but now it was suddenly dawning on her how worried she must have made Belle feel over the years, especially with the dangers of her job.

Emma suddenly felt as though she had been lured into a comfort zone: somewhere along the ride after she started rooming with Belle, she had gotten used to being fretted over, gotten used to Belle's happy attitude and the fact she was always there to lean on when she had a bad breakup or a rough time. Hell, now that she thought about it, she couldn't imagine what her life would have been like if she had not been confident she had someone looking out for her all these years. That was just how things were in their tiny two person society. Emma was the one that went in to the hospital for injuries and Belle was the one that waited patiently outside while trying not to hassle the nurses with worry.

Never had the roles been flipped. When had Emma become the dependable one? This was Belle's job, to worry about bringing Emma's PJs to replace those hideous hospital gowns, smuggling mac and cheese to her against doctor's orders because hospital food was the worse, and figuring out ways to make the injuries better. Emma did not know how to be dependable. She did not know how, because she had never had to. Come to think of it, Belle was almost superhuman: she never got sick, or slipped, or stumbled, or broke her bones or ankles. She was the most graceful person Emma knew, always knowing while reading when her foot was about to step in a ditch even without Emma's guidance.

When had she been lured into this safety blanket? When had Belle's friendly care-taking personality become so essential for Emma's survival? She knew she was not equipped to deal with Belle being shot, because she was not that strong. She did not have it in her to see Belle bandaged and bruised and brush it off with coddling concern and joke about it. She did not know how to be sweet and understanding with things like these. She simply was not Belle.

And she knew she had probably put her friend through this situation many times over. Emma couldn't handle hypocrisy, but at the time, she felt she was standing on a pile of it.

But she was worried, and needed to talk to someone. Belle was the one she went to when she felt as though she wanted to cry, but Belle was the reason she felt so guilty in the first place. Oddly enough, Mary Margaret's face popped up when she thought of someone else that would understand what she was going through.

The problem was that Mary Margaret was probably in the middle of her oh so famous errand with John Doe, and, as much as Emma wanted to, she did not have the heart to pull Mary away from her coma guy (mostly because she loved Henry), and did not want to burden the school teacher with something as gloomy as Belle taking a bullet. Perhaps in the morning, when Emma had enough energy to deal with Mary's sweet motherly concern without thoughts of the curse running rampant in her head. Right now, all she wanted was for someone to just be there, not even for a friendly ear. Hell, hoping for a smile would be too much, but Emma Swan was alone in a waiting room with the only other support system she had had in her life stuck in the ER, feeling more abandoned by the gods than ever, so she just wanted, for once, not to have to go through this on her own.

Maybe that was why she made that call.

"Hello," the voice at the other side of the line said gruffly.

"Hi, sorry, did I interrupt something?" Emma whispered, not having the heart to be her usual sassy self. She could sort of hear Ruby's voice in the background, and some light music playing.

"Emma...oh, shit, hey, it's you," Graham cursed as the clink of broken glass could be heard. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, well, yes. I... I..." Emma did not even know why she had called him, but to hell with it, that ER light was making her mad. "Remember how you said that if I ever needed to vent, I could call you? Does that still apply?"

"I don't remember saying it in so many words, but yeah it still applies. Why?"

Emma did not answer, afraid her voice if she told him over the phone. "Good to know. By the way, how fast can you get to Storybrooke's hospital? Because, lucky you, Graham Humbert, I'm taking you up on your offer."

"Fifteen minutes, tops," Graham replied. letting the line go dead.

And he made good timing, because, after the longest fourteen and three quarters minutes of Emma's life, the one and only Sheriff of Storybrooke strolled into the waiting room, his eyes zeroing on the Savior and noticing her pink eyes right away. Resisting a very big impulse to run and hold her, Graham walked slowly to her and sat at her side instead, and Emma knew she had been right to call him.

They sat there in silence for a while, with Emma just accepting his unspoken presence, happy that he was not trying to pry, until, at last, she calmed herself long enough to talk normally.

"My sister's in the ER, and I don't know what to do," she said, hurriedly looking up to him, feeling very vulnerable at the moment. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this, I just... I just... needed to talk to someone," she stuttered, this close to breaking, but Graham did not waver.

"Hey, Emma, that's okay, it's okay, she will be fine, right?" he said, hoping he was not crossing too many lines by putting a hand on hers. "Now, talk, I said I was a good listener, didn't I?"

And maybe it was because of the very vulnerable moment he had caught her in, or maybe it was because she really did want to trust him despite her misgivings, or maybe it was just because she needed to feel heard by another human being, maybe it was for another reason altogether, but Emma talked.

She opened her mouth and told him about her worries again. She told him about Belle, and why she called her friend that instead of Sophie, she told him about Belle's nursing skills, and sewing skills, and sense of justice, she told him about coming home with a gloomy cast only to find her friend waiting with an assortment of colorful sharpies.

And Graham had listened, nodding and smiling at Emma's stories, making one witty commentary here and there just long enough to ease her worry, while she continued to tell him about her friend.

How Belle was always one step ahead, buying ointments for Emma's future bruises and saving a special part of her small paychecks for Emma's "emergencies". she spoke about Belle's ability to make every place they went seem homey. Mostly, she told him about how guilty she felt, because Belle always took care of her, cooking, nursing and cheering her on. Despite what it might seem on the outside, Belle was the caretaker of the two, it had always been like that. "And now that it's my turn to take care of her, I don't know what to do."

And the great thing about Graham was that, apart from being a good listener, he was proving himself to be a good friend, advising her just to be there for Belle, not to worry about doing things the way Belle did them, but to just do them the way Emma did them.

"She is lucky to have you as a sister, Emma, don't ever doubt yourself."

And then she had been tired enough after her tirade that she had let him, if only for a moment, to put his arms around her to comfort her.

* * *

"SHE IS WHERE?" Mr Gold's normally calm voice raised to dangerous levels as his hands gripped his cane with rage.

That night, among the things the deal maker did not expect when he was about to go to bed, was, of course, to find a certain ascot-wearing hatter sitting calmly in his couch as though he were a actual invited guest, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Nevertheless, when had Jefferson ever cared about breaking and entering when he had a mission on his mind? But, before Mr Gold could raise his cane or make a call to the local police, Jefferson had said one fateful sentence that almost sent him over the edge.

"Belle is in the hospital," was all he had to say. Jefferson knew this was a risky move, coming into the dragon's nest and delivering dynamite in a silver platter, but when paired up against the alternative, he did not like his odds. "I felt that I should tell you in person before you find out tomorrow why your new employee," he mocked the words, "can't come to work."

"What happened?" Mr Gold choked out, limping over to take a seat. The hatter acquiesced his move. _Good, he better be seated for the next part._

"What do you think happened, Rumplestilskin?" Jefferson said, almost accusingly. "She was almost hit by a car and the bullet of nine millimeters that is currently being extracted from the side of her stomach, that's what happened." He did not sugarcoat it as he had done with Emma. just remembering Belle's bleeding shirt as he carried her limp body into the hospital was enough to make him ball his fists.

Mr Gold did not bother with pointing out that, given the nature of the curse, he shouldn't even be remembering who the deal maker actually was, because, in the bigger scheme of things, how Jefferson escaped the curse's hold was only a mere nuisance compared to the news he had come to deliver.

"I expected her to find a loophole, but not so soon as this," he tried, and failed, to keep his voice steady. It would not do him any good to show weakness in front of Jefferson more than it would in front of Regina.

"It seems to me you underestimated her. She seemed rather keen in having her minions end Belle's life tonight," then the Hatter got up and looked pointedly at him, "and I won't let that happen."

Jealousy, suddenly, uncalled, but justified, flared through Rumplestilskin like a wildfire, making him snap and regale him with a rather calculating but murderous look.

"And, do tell, why is that, dearie?" he said, advancing towards Jefferson with the very intent to drill certain facts about Belle into his skull. "Why are you suddenly so interested in her?"

"Why are you so interested in Emma Swan? The question rather answers itself, don't you think?" Jefferson smirked, rolling his eyes at the possibility that he might be interested in Belle as more than an asset to his plans. He sure had not been lying when he told her, back in their land, what the wrath of a man in love could do.

"So it was you! I suspected as much, but to have it confirmed... that was a terrible mistake." Mr Gold really wanted to strnagle Jefferson at the moment, and had he been in possession of his powers as the Dark One, he probably would have done so or worse, so he did not negate himself the threat that was verbalizing said impulses. "I should kill you at this instant."

"But you won't."

"Why are you so confident in the notion, dear Hatter?"

Jefferson had the good sense to feel fear at the moment. Of course he should not have taunted him like that. While he knew that, in this world, murder and genocide were a little more frowned upon and punished than in theirs, he also knew that, when it came down to it, despite the human visage, Rumplestilskin was still there, and had the resources to leave Grace an orphan with the flick of his wrist. "Because I saved Belle's life... twice," he said, playing his last card. "And the moment she gets her memories back, she won't be happy about it." Jefferson held his ground, despite the growing need to flee he was experiencing.

"And you have my gratitude, but that doesn't take away the fact you quite purposefully sent her out of the curse's reach, knowing fully well what could happen to her in this land without magic." Mr Gold hated to be blackmailed, and he was seething with rage at the moment, so, almost too fast for a man that had a limp, he was in Jefferson's face, a hand squeezing the Hatter's throat. "And I might choose not to tell her anything about your demise."

"I had no choice," Jefferson choked out, because considering everything, for a man of his height and musculature, Mr Gold was really good at that 'choking to death' move of his. "I had to do it for Grace."

The hand at the Hatter's throat tightened in rage. "And you chose HER for that particular arrangement?"

"She was perfect for it, and it was my only chance!" The Hatter was feeling lightheaded, so he threw in his last chance at survival. "The alternative for her would have been much worse, I saved her life!"

The hand squeezing the life out of Jefferson's body finally slacked and let go altogether. "And, as I said, you have my gratitude," he spat at the gasping Jefferson. "My question now is, why come here tonight, knowing I would more likely than not string you by your toes?"

"It seemed more prudent of me to deliver the news myself than to have Regina twist the fact I walked into the hospital with an unconscious girl to her advantage," he said pausing in between words to catch his breath. "The Savior already thinks I'm sketchy."

"If I didn't know you so well, dearie I would doubt your story as well." Mr Gold chuckled, but then his mind was back at the subject at hand. "How injured is she?"

"The bullet hit only a fair share of muscle and it caused a lot of bleeding, but it's not deadly. Apart from the tearing in her fingers and a few scratches, she will be fine."

"Good to know you knew I would hold you accountable if that had not been the case."

**Go ahead, tell me pre-redemption Regina wouldn't do something like this. *glares* I dare you! So far we are looking at some quite revealing moments, are we not? Muahaha! Bet you did not foresee it when you started reading: not the attack, nor Belle remembering Jefferson, not Gold's little jealous fit, see what mean by eventful? Note on Jefferson's surname, Carter, I chose that one as opposed to Hatter because 1) Hatter really isn't a common surname, not like say, Nolan or Blanchard, or Boyd, and I didn't think Regina would risk it, so I did a little reasearch and came up with this very interesting fact on Lewis Carol, did you guys know that some say he based the Hatter's character in a man called ****Theophilus Carter****, who was an eccentric furniture dealer in his time?, hence the name Jefferson Carter, Favorite moment so far to write: Gremma, obviously. But, you guys? Do tell me your thoughts. Comment please.**

Ps: this week I might update faster, but it depends on how much commentary I get.


	15. Chapter 15

******THANK YOU FOR YOUR REVIEWS**

******And like I promised, this is a pretty fast update because you guys reviewed me so well...**

******as to what's happening so far Life is still uneventful, dearies. I'm still not in the uni, I'm still living with my parents, and still boyfriend-less. OK, there was this moment last weekend when I did have a bit of fun in a small talent show organized by the folks in town. Gosh, that was one big stereo, I was supposed to be helping with organizing but I hooked up my mp3 on the mega speakers and danced my heart out while we were doing it... next morning my muscles hurt like hell, since I'm not the "fitness" type, and my body apparently knows it, but, just like Belle today, "I'll live". (It was so worth it).**

**Now, on with the disclaimer: I own nothing, all this belongs to ABC and some belongs to Disney. Also, you guys already know my Beta, say hello to the readers, Milarqui ****_(Beta Note: Hi! BTW, Awakening Ch 6 was posted some time ago, you might like it! (sorry for hijacking, WP, but I'd love to have more readers!)),_**** and you know me, so with nothing left to say. Let's start the show.**

**Chapter fifteen: Hospital patients... and flirting?**

Belle felt terrible.

There were hushed voices dancing around her ears, but she couldn't understand any of it, something to do with waking up and tired bodies.

The next thing she was aware of was of that terrible burning in the side of her stomach, and the fact her joints hurt like the devil. Making an effort, she tried to move, feeling the sting of the IV in her arm, and she slowly opening her eyes in disorientation.

"Where am I, why am I here?" she began mumbling, finding herself surrounded by hospital machines. The beeping of her heart monitor ricocheted to the sky in fear when she realized she was in a hospital gown. "Emma! Emma! What's going on?" she asked, frantic, looking around.

In a minute, a flash of corn-like yellow passed by her still blurry eyes, and Emma was at her side.

"I'm here, Belle it's okay," Emma said in reassurance.

Belle's eyes began adjusting to the light that someone had turned on, to find that, yes, Emma was there, and behind her a silent Mary Margaret regarded her with a worried but relieved smile. Belle struggled not to wave back with her hurt arms.

"What happened?" Belle asked Emma, who looked very close to reaching towards her for a hug, that, while welcome, would certainly prove to be very painful.

"You were shot. they got the bullet out, do you remember?" Emma, who had been glad once Belle had come out of surgery, was now looking at her with wary eyes, wondering if her amnesia was making an appearance again or if she just was suffering disorientation. She prayed it was the second.

And, just like magic, the memories of what had transpired before slammed into Belle all at once, like the whiplash of water when you do a cannonball in a pool. The sting of the aftermath left her feeling drained.

"Yes, I remember," she said to ease Emma's worries, "but what happened after I passed out?"

"The nurses said a man brought you in to be checked into the ER, said his name was..." Mary Margaret began explaining.

"Jefferson!" Belle gasped, finishing her sentence and remembering with clarity his face before Mary Margaret could utter his name. "What happened?" And the sad thing was she did not mean what happened to him that he was not there... she actually meant what happened in the Enchanted Forest. But it suddenly dawned on her that neither Mary or Emma would understand that. "I need to talk to him."

"Sorry, young lady, but that will be next to impossible at the moment," said a voice from the door, revealing a short white haired man in a lab coat. "You were lucky, that bullet did not do much damage, but there's still the need for at least a week of bed rest."

"Belle, this is doctor Larson, he's the one that patched you up," Emma said, motioning to the short general surgeon, "so I want you to listen to everything he says."

"But I'm – ouch – fine." Belle tried to sit up, but the stitches at her side made that very difficult, proving Emma and the doc's point.

"Well, it seems to me that your vitals and responses are working very well. As long as you don't overtax yourself and rest enough, I think we might be looking at an early discharge," Dr Larson said after checking her with his stethoscope and lifting the side of her gown to check her bandaged torso. Then, the man turned to Emma and began instructing her in the pain medicines Belle would have to take once she was discharged, making polite conversation with the disgruntled patient that only hours ago had lost enough blood to warrant a emergency dip into their blood bank.

"How long am I looking at?" Belle tried, and failed, to seem pleasant, but in fact she was really uncomfortable with all the fuss Emma and Mary were making about her state. She could read the questions in their eyes, and for the moment the only thing she wanted was to rest.

"A couple of days, a week at most. No need to look so horrified, sweetie," Dr Larson chuckled. "See this Mary Margaret? This is why I liked senile patients better, they don't complain nearly as much."

"Thank you for stepping in to replace Whale, Isaac, it really means a lot to me," Mary smiled at the kind doctor.

"Bah, anything for my favorite volunteer, heard you got a reaction from our local John Doe, the nurses are buzzing around like you suddenly turned into Jesus."

"Mary, you didn't tell me anything had happened!" Emma's head whipped around to face the schoolteacher with sudden interest.

"Well, when I found you so worried in the waiting room, telling you about John Doe seemed like the last thing on my mind, especially with the way you were slumping against Graham, so it slipped my mind"

"You were slumping against Graham?" Belle said narrowing her eyes in excitement and suspicion at Emma. "And you got a reaction from coma guy?" She turned to eye Mary up and down. "Exactly how many things did I miss while I was unconscious?"

"I was reading to him and he moved his hand... to put it over mine," Mary explained, a little giddy. Then, after looking at Emma and Dr Larson, she sobered up. "But I would hardly consider myself Jesus."

Emma not ready to tell her best friend yet about her developing feelings for a certain law enforcer, tried not to think about how calming Graham's presence had been at her side while she had all but turned into a worrying mess, he had been like a steady island in a very stormy sea that night, something she was grateful for, if it hadn't been for his quiet reassurances Emma was sure she wouldn't be as calm as she pretended to when Mary Margaret finally took over "I take the fifth, meaning I refuse to answer questions from the girl who's main pastime is interfering in my love life" Emma remarked

"I resent that," Belle huffed giving her a look, focusing instead on Mary. "So? What happened after?"

"I called Whale, but he doesn't believe me, he thinks I'm imagining things."

"The nurses don't," Dr Larson said, pulling away the IV with morphine from the tube connected to Belle's wrist. "That should account for something. I wouldn't be chalking up everything as imaginings just yet."

"I feel tired," Belle yawned, "but my side doesn't hurt now."

"Good for you sweetie, you girls stay out of trouble, you hear me?" Dr Larson admonished to the women in the room, earning a laugh even from the bedridden patient. "My work here is done, you can talk to her for a bit, but the morphine should be doing its work soon, so try not to spike her heart monitor again."

"I brought you... well, I asked Mary to go to our room and get you your favorite PJs while you were still in there," Emma mumbled, taking out a small backpack and putting it in Belle's bed. "You always say that hospital gowns are hideous when I'm strapped to the gurney, so I thought..."

"It's okay, Emma, I know," Belle smiled, once again reminding her friend how easy it was for her to understand what Emma was trying to say. "I'm sorry too."

After a nurse helped her into her loose PJs and robe, Emma finally dared to ask her what both her and Mary Margaret had both been wanting to know. "What happened last night?"

Having no need for secrecy, Belle told them. She told them about the text and the car, and the industrial glue, everything but the fact she already knew Jefferson, or that she remembered some part of her past. Emma was already on edge enough for that, and like the doctor had said, Belle needed rest.

She felt so sluggish as she spoke to them, doing her best to both reassure Emma and calm Mary Margaret, that she did not register she was drifting back to sleep until she was already five degrees under.

* * *

That morning, Mr Gold was surprised to find her propped up on her bed, reading calmly while the Savior dozed off in a nearby armchair.

"Don't wake her, please," was the first thing Belle had whispered, directing a concerned look at Emma. She smiled softly. "Poor Emma she's been up all night, only fell asleep a while ago"

"I would say the same about you."

"I'm fine, really," Belle brushed off, just as she had brushed off the inquiries of the nurses that morning. She would rather be awake and feel pain than sleep with the aid of morphine and feel trapped in her mind again. "Emma's the one that has me worried. She's not used to me being the one in the hospital bed," she sighed, closing her book. "I probably worried her sick, these things never happen to me, I've never been ill."

"Really?" Mr Gold asked, genuinely curious, still not daring to enter the room, preferring to stand by the door. "Never in your whole life?"

"My life has been pretty short, considering..." she tapped her forehead softly, joking about her memory loss. "But no."

"I heard you had an accident last night," he offered as a way of explaining why he was there, which she accepted with a nod and a tired smile. "The gossip in this town, is I believe, occasionally very useful."

"The perks of small towns, I'm still getting used to it." Belle nodded.

"Nevertheless, how are you feeling, miss Reed?"

"Belle."

"What?" Mr Gold staggered a bit, not really believing what she had said, until she repeated it again.

"Call me Belle," she repeated, "it's a nickname my friends use. Miss Reed feels like something awfully phony to call someone in a hospital bed, don't you think?" Belle explained.

"I'd rather let you be Miss Reed for a little longer."

"See, there you go, making me feel like an old lady," she said, smiling. "Miss Reed the spinster. I bet Jane Austen would have been all over it by now."

"I see you, at least, feel good enough to joke, dearie." He smiled at the easy way she seemed to be speaking to him, though he knew she probably should be resting, considering that a gunshot, even a small one, was no laughing matter when it came to injuries. He was still glad she had not lost that flickering spark of light he had missed so much after she left. "Nevertheless, I hate to have to repeat myself and ignore your very clever deflection of my question. How are you feeling?"

So, he had noticed?. Belle resisted the urge to harrumph and cross her arms over her chest like a sulking five year old. Lord, did she hate to be fretted over. "Like someone took a flamethrower and aimed it at my belly," she said with blatant honesty, patting the side of her pajama top, "but I'll live."

"Nothing to worry about, then." He wouldn't tell her he already knew that, after seeing her X-rays and exams himself. No, he needed her to confirm she was all right.

"Just a small wound, Mr Gold. Dr Larson promised that, if I behave, I'll probably be released by the end of the week."

"If you behave?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow. "Rather difficult, don't you think, dearie?"

Belle gave a sideways glance to the sleeping Emma in the armchair, and sighed.

"You have no idea." Talking to him when he was not avoiding her always came so easy. Why was it this way that she felt so at home making subtle jokes and longing to hear his quips? "I seem to be finding myself in more than one conundrum lately. Almost crashing your car, on the lookout for Emma, and now this," she sighed, shaking her head.

"At least, now you can't claim Storybrooke is dull anymore."

"I've never said this town was dull."

"Yes, you did. If I remember correctly, your exact words were 'this town is dull, boring, has no mall and the closest open library is two hundred and seventy miles away' or something of that sort."

"So, you did hear me and Emma the other day!" Belle gasped, outraged, remembering her red faced mortification when she suspected he had caught them taking about Emma's love life.

"I can't see how I could not, you both were being rather obnoxiously loud." He chuckled to himself at her red faced indignation. He liked to see her that way, alive, getting angry over a seemingly apparent injustice, with her blue eyes flashing with suppressed secrets, but, most of all, he liked to see how she was looking as healthy as Jefferson had promised. The Hatter, who had made a deal with him the previous night in exchange for his daughter's safeguarding (he was making too many deals for the safety of people lately; Jefferson better thank his lucky stars Rumplestilskin had always been fond of little Grace, else he was sure Cora's little beheading number would have been history compared to what he was planning).

"Did you come here to tease me to death, Mr Gold? Because I assure you it takes more than that to do me in."

"Not at all, if that were my overall intention, I expect it would take a lifetime of quips." He had not moved from the threshold, this time admiring her from his place, and almost giving one of his old giggles when he actually read the print on her pajama shirt. Her face had scratches and the fingers on her left hand, that were finely resting on her book, had gauze coating them, but other than that she looked as beautiful as he remembered her to be, despite the bruising. "Just wondering about your well being. After all, I wouldn't be a very good employer if I did not at least show some concern for the misfortunes of others," he jested offhandedly, knowing he could never tell her the real reason he was there.

"As far as I gathered, you take advantage of the misfortunes of others," she shot back with the same humor. "This visit is just you rubbing it in isn't it?"

"Clever girl." And the whispers of her silvery laugh were enough to reassure him she was safe, and at least well guarded for the time being.

"In that case, then, I give you my word that I'm fine. Tired, drowsy, mad at Emma, hurting like hell, and disgruntled, but fine all the same."

"Good to know. Then, I suppose that's my cue to take my leave." Better to let her be for the moment, as he was sure judging by her slight yawn, that the medication they had her on would soon be sending her back to sleep, and he was in agreement with anything that made her better. So he turned around and was about to leave when he heard her call him.

"Wait, Mr Gold!" she stuttered, and in an instant took her hands to her mouth, fearing she had woken Emma up. Luckily, she had not, but, damn, she did not want Mr Gold to go, he was still standing there, in the threshold, not even stepping in the small waiting room, so she made up an excuse quickly. "Will you come to visit me? I mean, well, since you still need to put me up to date with my job and I'm not going anywhere... unless you are busy which you must be. What I'm trying to say is... nevermind, you can go." Why was she getting so tongue tied? This so was not Sophie Reed. Why was this happening? Belle reminded herself that "he" had to leave in order for her to take one of the pillows propped in her back and scream into it.

_And that was the thing with love, it made you act like a mumbling idiot... or a Charming,_ Mr Gold thought as he heard her endearing little ramble. "Don't worry, I'll be coming to see you, time permitting. Wouldn't want you slacking off, dearie, not even on your deathbed."

"Not even on my deathbed, indeed," she nodded, laughing.

"And, by the way Miss Reed, I am glad you too enjoy reading Jane Eyre," he said as a mode of goodbye, looking again at the print on her pajama shirt. "Better than vampires, I suppose."

Belle had to keep her hand to her mouth to avoid exploding in giggles. Of course, she knew what her shirt said, and though it was very embarrassing to realize a man in a expensive Armani suit had seen it, Belle was trying to contain herself before her laughter caused more damage to her stitches. Considering her shirt said TEAM EDWARD...ROCHESTER, right above an assortment of quotes from said character splayed over the white fabric, she was torn between replying to his jab or feeling mortification. Finally she chose the first.

"I'll have you know it's one of my favorite books, brilliant piece of literature." She blushed, tugging her yellow sweatshirt close to hide it. Then, she offered an explanation. "I used to work at Barnes and Nobles, this was a farewell present from one of my friends."

"I see, well, better I leave you to your book, then, maybe some other time, we could discuss, the... ahh... particular demerits of Edward Rochester."

"Demerits?" Belle gasped as tough she had just been insulted "Typical! a man that finds flaws in one of the greatest romantic heroes of all times. Why am I not surprised?" She was actually surprised he had read the book, but, heck, Belle had not had a good intellectual conversation over books in ages.

"Is that contempt I detect in your tone, dearie?"

"No, just derision."

"The man had a wife in his attic!"

"But he loved Jane enough to confess to his deeds!"

"He was willing to put her in danger out of selfishness!"

"She understood why he did it!"

"He used another woman to get her to confess! That, my dear was as dirty as the tricks get."

"Argh, I am not discussing this with you Mr Gold, this conversation is over." She harrumphed in frustration, refusing to argue with the stubborn man over her favorite classic hero. She almost gave into the petty bibliophile voice in her head that was telling her to send him to hell. Almost but not quite.. since the bastard seemed to be quietly laughing at her.

"I suppose it is," he chuckled. Had they really argued over a fictional character? And better yet, had he actually felt jealous of said fictional character? Well there was no point in dwelling on that now, not when his blue eyed beauty looked reasonably furious, and an inner sense of self preservation reminded him that retreat right now was probably the best choice. "Goodbye, Miss Reed," he said, finally sobering up as though asking for her forgiveness.

And with the eerie feeling she had done so before, Belle let out a defeated sigh.

"Goodbye, Mr Gold, thanks for stopping by," she said giving him a tired smile, wordlessly offering said forgiveness.

Thus, he knew she did not hold his dislike for Edward Rochester against him.

* * *

She spent most of the afternoon dozing off, with Emma watching her closely (which irked her to no end) and, in the evening, she was awake enough to enjoy the happy visit of Henry's smiling face.

The little boy was an endless ball of energy that granted a reprieve on the gray that seemed to settle over Belle and Emma since Belle had told her she refused to go to the police after what had happened, mainly because she did not want anybody digging into her background.

"So, you never have been sick? Not even the flu? Ever?"

"Not in the past years, no."

"Then it's a sign the curse is breaking!" Henry said, jumping on her hospital bed. Emma, who after one whole day turning the fact over and over in her head, was tired of being confused, for once was inclined to believe magic was a good answer. "If you were frozen in time like the rest of town, that would mean you couldn't get sick, but now time isn't frozen, so you can get sick."

"Kid, there's a difference between getting sick and taking a bullet." Emma sighed, glad that Mary Margaret had gone to check on John Doe a while ago, at least for this part of the conversation. "Not exactly the same thing."

"But it's the same idea," Henry complained. "Things are changing, and my mom was furious last time I saw her."

"Change of topic, please. I don't want to talk about your mother right now." Emma groaned. She had enough exhaustion already with keeping vigil over her friend's bedside, to have her head whirl around the fact that Henry was probably there without his adoptive mother's permission, and think of Regina's retaliation.

"I bet it was her that made this happen, I warned you she was dangerous!"

"Henry, that is a very serious accusation sweetie. I barely met your mother yesterday, what motive would she have to hate me?"

"She hates Emma," Henry reasoned with a shrug, going for his backpack. "In the book, the Queen liked to kill the friends of the people she hated, that's why she killed Snow White's dad."

"Great, now there's another thing for me to worry about, Regina going psycho on Belle because she hates me," Emma groaned again, because, why not? If her belief system was up for taking a hit, the only person that so far had a grudge against her, or them, was effectively, the mayor of Storybrooke. And that made hiring a thug to kill Belle a little too possible.

"That seems, like, a little extreme if she just wants to drive Emma out of town."

"She's the Evil Queen, extreme is what she does, haven't you both been listening?"

But, before the three of them could pursue the topic of Regina's motives further, Belle noticed a big commotion outside, and minutes later Mary Margaret burst through the door, frantic. "John Doe is missing!"

"What?" Belle and Emma said at the same time, eyes zeroing on her.

"Cool!" Henry cried, beaming.

"What happened, did someone take him?" Belle asked, concern etching on her features.

"We don't know yet. His IVs were ripped out, but there's no sign for sure there's a struggle," Graham said, coming into the room just right behind Mary Margaret. "Hi Belle, feeling better, I hope."

"I'll live," she shrugged, smiling. "So, what happened, will he be okay?"

Graham shook his head, looking at Emma instead. "He's been in a coma for years, according to Dr Whale, we need to find him soon."

"Oh no, no, no, you are not dragging me into this" Emma shook her head, reading Mary and Graham's expressions. "My sister needs me, I can't leave Belle."

"No, I don't, please do take her to do something useful," the bedridden patient complained with narrowed eyes. "She's been driving me crazy with her fretting."

"You know how to find missing persons, with your help we could find John Doe faster," Graham said.

"Please, Emma," Mary Margaret said with her most persuasive expression. Emma thought that she looked remarkably like Henry when she did that.

"Fine, I'll do it. Did you guys check the security cameras?" Emma asked.

"Yes, but nothing appears in the tape," Graham offered with confidence.

"Then let's go check again, maybe you guys missed something." Emma turned to Belle. "You sure you'll be okay if I leave you for a while?"

"I have Henry, a hospital filled with nurses and a cellphone, I'll be fine," Belle smiled. "Now go, be a hero and find your father," Belle pressed, making Mary and Henry snigger.

"Her father?" Graham cocked his head to the side, not understanding.

Mary Margaret laughed, brushing him off. "Running joke between the four of us, you wouldn't understand."

Emma rolled her eyes, and with one last reassuring look from Belle, she left the room. Half an hour later, Henry had to leave, too, being alerted by one of the nurses that Dr Whale had called Regina and told her he was not at home doing his homework as she believed him to be. Leaving Belle alone for a while.

* * *

"Knock, knock!" A bouquet of marigolds and a teddy bear peeked from the door. "Is Sophie here?"

"Jim!" Belle cried, happy at his appearance. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry I stood you up last night."

Jim shook his golden head, walking into her room with a smile on his face. "Don't worry, Mary Margaret told me in school about what happened. Are you okay?"

"I'm getting sick of people asking me that question, but yes, I'm fine. Heavens, you even got me a card," she said, looking at the GET WELL SOON teddy bear he had brought and the card in his hand. "That's so sweet"

"Read it, a couple of My students helped me make the card, I take no credit for it," he said, smiling.

"okay" Belle laughed, the card had ten different handwritings and glitter "GET WELL SOON, eat lots of PUDDING, put a flannel TURBAN on your head, watch TV, eat CHICKEN SOUP, and spend all day in BED..with VIDEOGAMES" Belle had to smile it was a very sweet card "you students must love you very much"

"No, they just don't trust me enough to buy a good get well card for a girl I like" the Jim teacher replied remembering how he had been ambushed by a army of ten yearolds after one of them had eavesdropped on his conversation with Mary Margaret, (their exact words where something along the lines of "Mr Fredricksen you don't know anything about girls, you need our help") "And what kind of guy would I be if I ignored you for something that was not even your fault?" He sat in a plastic chair next to her bed.

"Well tell your students I really liked the card they made" she said happy propping it up in the table next to her "You shouldn't have gone trough all this trouble"

"Maybe, but I did, and you smiled, so mission accomplished" Jim replied helping her sit up "So Is Grey's Anatomy any good?" he asked, looking up to what she was watching in the TV.

"Not really, Meredith and Derek are doing a complicated surgery, Alex is having some drama with his intern and Cristina doesn't want to have kids."

"Wow, you need entertainment, and fast." Jim looked at her remote control. "Pass it over."

"Tell me about it," she said with a chuckle, putting the little adorable teddy bear he had brought next to her pillow.

"There you go, a football match."

"But I know nothing about football."

Jim pretended to be affronted. "That is absolutely unacceptable, Sophie! It's an American's duty to know about football." He suspected as much. Maybe that was why he taunted her. "As of today, I am taking it upon myself to teach you the basics little ignorant beauty."

"Am I supposed to be flattered or insulted by what you said? I'm confused." Belle laughed. "But, if you want to teach me, then fine, what's that player over there called?"

"That's the quarterback."

"And why exactly is he running like that?" Jim spent almost as long as the match had lasted explaining the game to Belle, and while to some other men that would have been annoying, to him it was quite nice. She smiled a lot and did not make him feel like an idiot for getting her a teddy bear instead of something more adult. Plus, she was very beautiful. After the game was done, they proceeded to play cards, with him letting her win at poker every time because he was a gentleman and her shaking her head at how sweet he was but saying nothing.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside the room, and Belle's ears perked up. "What's happening?"

"I don't know, but there really seems to be a frenzy out there," Jim shrugged noticing it too.

"Let's see what it's all about, come on," Belle said, taking advantage of the fact Emma was not there to push the covers away and try to get up, swinging her legs to the side.

"Sophie, you can't get up, you could hurt yourself." Jim was immediately at her side but Belle kept on, stubbornly.

"I've been in this bed for an eternity, I want to get up and see."

"Fine, but just don't get up, okay? I'm going to get you a wheelchair. Don't put that face, if you want to go out of this room, I won't let you jeopardize your stitches."

"Fine," she conceded, reaching up for her blue dressing gown and wrapping it around her pajamas while Jim looked for a wheelchair and smiled apologetically.

"Don't look like that," he replied, lifting her deftly from the bed with his strong arms. Belle should have felt flattered, happy even, to be treated like this, he was doing everything right, she should be feeling like a princess, but for some reason, being in Jim's arms did not make her heart beat fast. "There you go, I know it's against the doctor's orders, but I can't say no to you, can I?" he said, placing her on the chair with care.

"Let's see what mischief I can get myself into! Come on Jim, wheel me away!" Belle joked, and Jim nodded, pushing the chair forward. She let out a sneeze. Jim had noticed she had been sneezing a lot since he came, so he had to ask about it.

"I'm allergic to marigolds," she replied, mortified.

"And you were afraid to hurt me if you told me that? Oh Sophie, this is why I like you, you are so kind." Jim grinned, taking the bouquet of flowers out of her room. "Let's bring them with us and see if they can lighten up somebody else's day. I know you don't want to throw them away."

"I'm sorry Jim, they really are beautiful"

* * *

It turned out that all the mayhem was just because John Doe had been found. Belle, enthusiastic about the development, had gone to join Mary Margaret, Henry and Emma. The latter sent Jim a death glare for letting her out of her room and took the handle of the wheelchair away from him with narrowed eyes, making him laugh at the face Belle had made at him behind the blond's back.

"David, David! Hey, are you a worker here? Is David all right?" a beautiful but concerned blond woman said, bumping into Jim, who, at the sight of her face, felt something inside of him crack.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't know who David is, please calm down," Jim said, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking directly into her eyes. "Everything is going to be all right," he said in a very calming voice.

Kathryn suddenly felt as though the world had stopped turning. Looking into this stranger's eyes, his voice sounded so familiar, so much like... someone. "I... thank you," she said, her heart being very fast at the way the stranger smiled.

"I'm Jim," he said, trying to place her in all of his memories, but still he could not remember where he had seen her before.

"Kathryn."

* * *

"Kathryn, darling, David is over here," Regina called out, seeing to her immense fury, that Princess Abigail was currently talking to her true love, Frederick.

"Oh, right... sorry, I better get back to my David... my husband, that is."

"No worries Kathryn, I better get back to Sophie too, before her sister strings me by my ankles," Jim said, feeling a little, if not very, uncomfortable at the fact this beautiful woman whom he had been flirting with for a second, had a husband.

"Sophie?"

"My friend... date."

"Sure," Kathryn nodded, feeling a little disappointed too. "So... I'll be seeing you around, I guess. Thanks for everything, Jim"

"Hey, wait!" Jim said, remembering the marigolds he still had in his hands. "Take this. I brought them for Sophie, but it turns out she's allergic, so maybe your husband will feel better about them."

"Oh" Kathryn said, surprised at seeing the neatly tied bunch of yellow flowers, furrowing her eyebrows, looking back and forth between the plants and Jim. "How did you?... Nevermind, forget it, it's just funny."

"What?"

"Marigolds!" Kathryn said with a smile. "They are my favorite flowers." This also made Jim smile, and while Kathryn felt it was the nicest smile she had ever seen, Jim's mind had already gone blank after she had looked at him with that earnest expression.

"Good," was all the gym teacher replied before feeling Regina's glare on him and deciding to return to Sophie while the mayor was out and about.

Neither Kathryn nor Jim noticed however that a smiling (and scheming) Henry had been covertly watching them from his place behind Regina's back.

Or that Emma overheard the whole exchange with a little bit of disappointment for Belle, too.

* * *

That night, Belle had a nightmare. Again the green smoke was out to get her, but, for once, she accepted the dream as nothing more than the personification of her fears.

Too many things were happening. Not just her injury: Emma was suddenly finding herself in the middle of all these situations, with Mary Margaret and now David Nolan (turned out coma guy did have a name). Belle knew Emma, she wouldn't be able to stay away from trying to help if Mary asked, then there was Henry, and Regina, who was proving to be more and more of a looming opposition as the days progressed. The kid was a delight to be around, especially when paired up with Emma, but Regina was like a cloud of bad stuff that refused to be dispelled by their combined efforts.

Of course Belle was having nightmares. The faces of so many people filtered in and out of the green smoke like pictures from a bad horror movie. Emma's with Mary's and David's, circling a bedridden Belle like specters only a very worried her could conjure. Then, there was, of course, the shadow of the reptile-like man. She only caught a glimpse of him now and then, dancing like an imp around a pyre just one step out of reach when she tried to grasp him. Henry's face seemed the only one that was not surrounded by smoke. In her nightmare, he was actually sitting by her bedside, his clear face smiling brightly, with his open storybook in his lap, pointing to the figures, oblivious to the nightmarish mayhem going on around them, almost as if he did not see it.

Belle woke up with a start, her heart monitor spiking up, but not hard enough to wake Emma, who once again was sleeping in the armchair next to her hospital bed.

Belle sighed. She could not take the questions any longer, so making sure her friend was still asleep and not caring about the fact it was barely an hour before dawn, Belle picked up her cellphone and dialed the number on the card Emma had given her that morning.

The beeper of the call was like a slow drum, beating. One, two, three, until the person on the other line picked up. "Hello?"

"Jefferson, it's me, we need to talk"

"Belle, darling, lucky you, I was just hoping you would call..."

**So this is it, I just finished the counterpart of Snow Falls. Next episode is The Price of Gold. I'm betting lots of people are wondering how I'll handle that, Well... I'm not telling you. Muahahaha! Next chapter, I am so making Emma comment on that scene up there with Gold, something very on the spot like "Belle, you were flirting, I was there!..." Does someone else think it funny that he was so opposed to a fictional character that is so much like him? (snort) Edward Rochester has lots in common with Mr G, hence the pun in Belle defending the character. Also, I'm trying to pave the way for this love square between Kathryn, David, Jim and Mary Margaret, tell me how I'm doing so far, because as sweet as Jim is with Belle I'm not making him a serious rival for her heart... **

**Comment dearies I know you want to.**


End file.
